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— 


Fii'Sit     Eeolexin^ti**;*  I     Society. 


THIS  BOOK  BELONGED  TO  THE  LIBRARY  OF 
Rev.     .JOEL     T-TAWKS,     D .    D . , 

For  40  Voat>-n     Pastor  ofTkig  Church. 
Ordpfatfl  March  4,  L818.  Died  Jun 


Person    'HI J?2™** 

^v.    Joseph  Emerson 


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REV.     J  oVeVh     EMERSON, 


PASTOR     OF     THE 


THIRD    CONGREGATIONAL   CHURCH    IN   BEVERLY,    Ms. 


AND     SUBSEQUENTLY 


PRINCIPAL    OF    A    FEMALE    SEMINARY. 


BY    REV.    RALPH    EMERSON, 

Professor  of  Ecclesiastical  History  in  the  Theol.  Sens.  Andover,  Ms. 


BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED   BY  CROCKER  AND  BREWSTER, 

47,  Washington  Street : 

NEW-YORK:-LEAVITT,    LORD,   &  CO. 

182,  Broadway. 

1834. 


Entered  according-  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1834. 

BY  CROCKER  &  BREWSTER, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


PREFAO&. 


Have  we  not  already  enough  of  good  biographies  ? 
perhaps  some  one  may  ask,  as  he  very  leisurely  takes 
up  this  volume.  The  question  shall  speedily  be  answer- 
ed. But  first  let  a  preparatory  question  or  two  be  put 
to  this  inquirer.  Have  you,  then,  already  become  ac- 
quainted with  as  many  good  men  as  you  wish  to  know  ? 
— and  is  there  not  much  of  the  same  benefit  and 
pleasure  to  be  derived  from  enlarging  our  acquaint- 
ance with  the  lives  of  the  departed,  as  of  those 
who  are  still  with  us  ? — and  may  it  not  be  done  with 
greater  facility  ? — Are  there,  then,  enough  of  good 
biographies  already?  No,  we  have  not  enough — 
nor  shall  we  have,  so  long  as  God  shall  continue  to 
raise  up  the  fit  subjects  of  such  works.  *  History," 
says  an  ancient,  "  is  philosophy  teaching  by  example." 
Much  more  emphatically  is  this  true  of  biography — the 
life  and  soul  of  history.  The  more  fit  examples  for 
this  purpose,  the  better.  Each  one  has  something  new 
to  teach,  or  to  impress  more  vividly ;  and  each  has  its 
special  relations  to  particular  circles  and  classes  of  men, 


PREFACE. 


and  to  particular  spheres  of  action.  This  is  true  o 
Diography  in  general. 

But  christian  biography  has  something  more  exalted 
than  mere  human  philosophy,  to  loach.  It  teaches  the 
ways  of  God  towards  man  ifi  relation  to  an  eternal  and 
blessed  existence- -Yes;  5Efd  ii  will  be  studied, too,  not 
merely  in  this  world,  but  fa  the  next.  Biography  is 
prized  hi  heaven.  The  records  of  the  judgment  day, 
will  give  the  disclosures  of  human  life  in  relation  to 
God.  And  the  thrilling  interest  that  will  never  flag  dur- 
ing those  long  disclosures,  will  be  the  interest  of  biog- 
raphy. Nay,  such  exhibitions  of  man  and  of  Prov- 
idence, will  forever  continue  to  interest  and  profit  those 
happy  souls  who  delight  supremely  in  the  greatest  won- 
ders of  creating  and  redeeming  wisdom,  love,  and 
power. 

If,  then,  it  is  desirable  that  earth  should  be  made 
more  like  heaven,  in  its  joys  and  its  occupations,  let 
it  be  filled  with  just  and  glowing  biography.  And  if  in- 
dividuals would  become  better  prepared  for  the  upper 
world,  let  them  devoutly  peruse  the  lives  of  those  who 
*  have  died  in  faith  and  gone  to  inherit  the  promises.' 
This  is  the  way  to  become  acquainted  with  divinity, 
both  for  theory  and  practice.  And  hence  it  is,  that  God 
has  so  filled  his  own  divine  book  with  such  sketches. 

Possessing  such  views  of  christian  biography,  the 
author  has  been  deeply  impressed  with  the  solemn  res- 
ponsibility to  which  Providence  has  called  him,  in  the 


PREFACE. 


preparation  of  the  following  work.  It  has,  accordingly, 
been  his  devout  aim,  to  bring  to  its  execution,  a  spirit 
of  candor,  zeal,  and  christian  love ;  and  to  cherish  the 
solemn,  yet  joyful  impression,  throughout  these  labors, 
that  he  is  to  meet  this  dear  departed  brother  in  the  eter- 
nal world  ;  and  to  meet  all  who  are  to  read  this  work. 

Whether  the  present  is  a  "good  biography,"  is  not  a 
question  for  the  compiler  to  decide  ;  but  he  may  be 
permitted  to  say,  that  he  has  bestowed  all  the  attention 
in  his  power,  to  render  it  a  faithful  and  profitable  ac- 
count of  "  a  good  man."  Should  this  account  be  found 
useful  to  some  preachers  and  some  hearers  of  the  gos- 
pel— to  some  teachers  of  youth  and  some  learners  of 
the  best  things — to  some  parents  and  some  children ; 
how  rich  will  be  the  reward  of  this  labor.  To  this 
end,  the  subject  of  this  volume  has  been  permitted 
to  speak  extensively  for  himself,  by  extracts  from  his 
letters  and  other  productions.  The  revision  of  these 
letters,  many  of  them  precious  memorials  of  affection, 
has  often  filled  a  brother's  heart  with  a  rush  of  mingled 
emotions,  that  compelled  him  to  drop  the  affecting 
relic  and  suspend  "  the  pleasing,  painful  task."  The 
perusal,  however,  cannot  thus  touch  the  heart  of  a 
stranger ;  and  the  selections  for  publication,  have  been 
made  with  a  view  to  usefulness,  rather  than  to  effect. 

The  gratitude  of  the  compiler  is  here  tendered  to 
the  kind  friends  who  have  forwarded  these  letters,  or 
in  other  ways  have  aided  his  labors. 


O  PREFACE. 

Perhaps  a  few  readers  may  prefer  to  commence  with 
the  account  of  his  ancestors,  contained  in  the  appen- 
dix, and  which  was  originally  designed  to  precede  the 
small  portion  of  autobiography,  now  placed  at  the  be- 
ginning. The  reasons  which  induced  the  subject  of 
this  work  to  commence  these  notices  of  his  ancestors 
and  himself,  will  appear  in  the  sequel.  Had  he  been 
spared  to  complete  the  design,  we  should  have  heard 
less  of  himself,  and  perhaps  more  of  the  age  in  which 
he  lived. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


His  Infancy  and  Childhood. — Birth.  Constitution  early 
impaired.  Reflections  on  his  baptism,  Early  education, 
physical,  and  literary.  Anecdotes.  Happy  effects  of 
early  discipline.  Influence  of  agricultural  training  on 
future  character.  Page  13 

CHAPTER  II. 

From  his  Childhood  to  his  graduation  at  College, 
At  the  Academy.  Enters  College.  Relinquishes  a  pro- 
ject of  leaving  Harvard  for  Dartmouth.  Influence  of  em- 
ulation on  his  character  and  studies.  Death  of  a  young 
brother.    Religious  state  of  the  College.  23- 

CHAPTER  III. 

From  his  graduation  to  his  settlement  in  the 
Ministry,  1798 — 1803. — Teaches  an  academy  in  Fra- 
mingham.  Honest  frankness  of  his  character.  Studies 
divinity  with  Dr.  Emmons.  Poetry.  On  writing  prayers. 
Manner  of  life  at  Franklin.  Resides  at  Cambridge. 
Corresponds  with  his  former  pupils.  On  decrees,  self- 
determining  power,  chirography,  education.  School- 
teaching  as  connected  with  the  pastoral  office.    Returns 


8  CONTENTS. 

to  Franklin.  Remarks  on  Darwin,  Young,  the  study  and 
reading  of  poetry  and  prose.  Begins  to  preach,  and  ia 
appointed  tutor.  Efforts  to  ascertain  his  own  faults. 
Letter  from  T.  Metcalf.  Didactic  and  social  traits  of 
character.  On  best  habits  in  all  things.  Poetry  on  Mrs. 
Steele.  Death  of  his  mother.  Eventful  correspondence. 
Death  of  other  relatives.  Preaching,  Journal.  Habits 
of  study.  Resolution  and  plan  for  studying  the  bible. 
Projects,  resolutions,  and  expectations.  Call  to  settle  at 
Beverly.  Admiration  of  Baxter.  Answer  to  his  call. 
Formation  of  the  church  in  B.  Feelings  in  view  of  his 
approaching  ordination.  43 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Views  of  his  Character  as  developed  at  this  pe- 
riod.— Communications  from  Dr.  Channing,  President 
Chapin,  Judge  Story,  Judge  White,  and  Dr.  Emmons.     112 


CHAPTER  V. 

From  his  settlement  to  the  death  of  his  first 
wife. — Ordination.  Marriage.-  Death  of  his  wife.  His 
feelings  on  that  occasion,  122 

CHAPTER  VI. 

From  the  death  of  his  first  wife  to  the  time  of 
his  second  marriage. — Letters  to  relatives.  Historical 
notices  of  his  wife.  His  tender  remembrance  of  her.  His 
morning  school.    Other  plans  of  usefulness.  131 

CHAPTER  VII. 

From  his  second  marriage  to  the  last  sickness  of 
his  wife.    1305 — 1808. — His  marriage.    Notices  of  her 


CONTENTS.  9 

previous  life.  Her  intimacy  with  his  first  wife.  Charac- 
ter. Directions  to  a  college  student.  Pastoral  labors. 
Extempore  preaching.  149 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Sickness  and  death  of  his  second  wife.  1808. — 
Himself  very  feeble.  Accompanies  her  to  Leicester. 
Returns.  She  returns.  They  again  go  to  L.  Letters  to 
Mr.  Ellingwood.    To  his  people.     Her  deatL  173 

CHAPTER  IX. 

From  the  death  of  his  second  wife  to  his  third 
marriage.  1808— 1810.— On  the  connected  duties  of 
christian  zeal  and  self-preservation.  Dissertations  on  his 
studies,  etc.,  recommended  to  a  student.  Death  of  his 
oldest  brother.  Evangelical  Primer.  On  the  best  mode 
of  preaching.  183 

CHAPTER  X. 

From  his  third  marriage  to  his  dismission  from 
his  people.  1810 — 1816.  Infirmity  in  his  limbs.  Early 
zeal  for  foreign  missions.  Tour  to  Ballstown.  His  mis- 
sionary sermon.  Advocates  total  abstinence.  Tour  to 
Wiscasset.  Interest  in  revivals.  Edits  the  writings  of 
Miss  F.  Woodbury.  Visits  Norfolk,  Ct.  Excursions  in 
that  region.     His  return  and  dismission.  197 

CHAPTER  XI. 

His  character  as  a  pastor. — Letter  from  Rev.  B.  Em- 
erson. From  Rev.  J.  W.  Ellingwood.  From  a  parish- 
ioner. Additional  remarks  on  the  character  of  his 
preaching.  His  success.  His  care  in  teaching  recent 
converts,  and  caution  in  admitting  ttiem  to  the  church. 
Church  discipline.  Eiforts  and  plans  for  instructing  his 
people.  216, 


10  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

From   his    dismission   to    his    removal    to  Byfield. — 

1816— 1818.— Sails  for  Wilmington.  Arrival.  Kind 
treatment.  Spiritual  enjoyment.  Great  love  to  his  for- 
mer people,  etc.  Becomes  a  mason.  Reasons  for  this. 
Preaches  to  the  masons.  Remarks  on  Milton,  Dwight, 
etc.  His  estimate  of  Scott's  Commentary.  Goes  to 
Charleston.  Kind  reception.  Astronomical  lectures. 
Lectures  on  the  millennium,  and  other  efforts.  R  eturn. 
Removal  to  Byfield.  225 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

From  the  establishment  of  his  Seminary  at  By- 
field  to  ins  removal  to  Saugus.  1818 — 1821. — 
Publishes  his  lectures  on  the  millennium.  Objects  of  his 
seminary.  Society  for  instruction.  Astronomical  lec- 
tures in  Boston.  An  objection  to  the  long  millennium. 
Astronomical  lectures  published.  Union  catechism  pub- 
lished. 247 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

From  his  removal  to  Saugus  to  his  second  visit 
at  the  South.  1821 — 1822. — Reasons  for  removal. 
Discourse  on  female  education.     Number  of  pupils.         257 


CHAPTER  XV. 

His  second  visit  at  the  South.  1823 — 1824. — Arrival 
in  Charleston.  Health  and  feelings.  Excursion  to  Dor- 
chester. Recitation  lectures.  Retrospect.  Duties  of  a 
minister's  wife.  Facts  and  remarks  by  Professor  Peck. 
Catholicism.  Particularly  towards  the  Baptists.  Early 
cause  of  this.  Return  to  New-York.  Sickness  there. 
Invitation  to  Wethersneld.     Return  to  Saugus.  263 


CONTENTS.  11 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

From  his  return  to  Saugus  to  his  removal  to 
Wethersfifld.  1824. — Resumes  his  labors  in  the 
seminary.  Reasons  for  leaving  Saugus.  Whelpley's 
Compend.  297 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

From  his  removal  to  Wethersfield  to  his  third 
visit  at  the  South.  1824 — 1830. — Location  at  Weth- 
ersfield. Death  of  a  mother-in-law.  Reports  of  his 
change  in  religious  opinions.  Publishes  the  course  of 
study  in  his  seminary,  etc.  Recitation  lectures  for  the 
winter.  Revival  in  his  seminary.  The  bible  as  a  classic. 
Religion  to  be  taught  in  schools.  Principles  of  economy. 
On  the  study  of  languages.  Death  of  Mrs.  Judson.  On 
unfolding  the  faculties.  Questions  to  Goodrich's  history .- 
On  grammars.  Poetic  Reader.  Publication  on  the  study 
of  our  history.  His  letter  on  masonry.  Death  of  a  child. 
Fears  of  fanaticism.  Visits  Massachusetts.  New  chart 
of  history.  Popular  lectures  on  history.  Preaches  on 
popery.  Returns  to  W.  Excursion  to  Massachusetts. 
New  remedy.     Return  to  W.  299 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

His  third  visit  at  the  South.  1830— 1831.— State  of 
his  health.  Payson.  Arrival  in  Charleston.  His  situa- 
tion there.  Retrospection  on  his  first  marriage,  etc.  On 
college  studies.  Hebrew.  Hermeneutics.  Very  feeble. 
Sends  for  his  son.  Better.  Lectures  on  history.  Re- 
turns.   Letter  from  Miss  R.  Eaton.  339 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

From  his  return  to  Wethersfield  to  his  last 
sickness.  1831— 18&3.— Visits  Massachusetts.  Lec- 
tures on  the  English  poets.    On  Pollok.    On  reading. 


12  CONTENTS. 

Depression  succeeded  by  enjoyment.  Returns  to  Weth- 
ersfield.  Infant  baptism.  Pulpit  eloquence.  Questions 
on  Watts.  On  Goodrich's  History  of  U.  S.  Views  of 
man's  power,  dependence,  etc.  Philosophy  of  religion. 
Visits  Boston.  Excursions  from  Boston.  Council  at 
Providence.  Address  at  Beverly,  July  4th.  Returns  to 
Wethersfield.  Increasing  maladies.  Office  of  deacon. 
On  teaching  children  to  sing.  Daily  concert.  Immedi- 
ate repentance .  354 

CHAPTER  XX. 

His  last  sickness  and  death. — Request  for  the  prayers 
of  his  former  people.  Sympathy  in  their  loss.  State  of 
body  and  mind.  Visited  by  relatives.  His  will.  Views 
of  the  millennium,  and  of  the  heavenly  states.  Commen- 
ces a  memoir  of  himself.  On  zeal  in  preaching ;  human 
power ;  sacred  logic  ;  Watts,  etc.  Last  conversations. 
Death.  385 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Views  of  his  character. — Communications  from  Lieut 
Gov.  Armstrong,  Dr.  Chapin,  Dr.  Hawes,  Miss  Lyon, 
Miss  Grant,  and  Dr.  Tenney.    Remarks.  413 


Appendix.  441 


L  I  F  E  , 


CHAPTER     I. 


HIS    INFANCY    AND    CHILDHOOD. 

Birth — Constitution  early  impaired — Reflections  on  Ms 
baptism — Early  education,  physical,  and  literary— 
Anecdotes — Happy  effect  of  early  discipline — Influence 
of    agricultural    training    on   future    character. 

Shortly  before  his  decease,  my  brother  dictated  the 
following  notices  of  his  early  life,  in  connexion  with  the 
sketch  of  his  ancestors,  contained  in  the  appendix. 

I  was  born  at  Holies.  N.  H.  Oct.  13,  1777,  four  days 
before  the  surrender  of  Burgoyne, — perhaps  on  the  very 
day,  on  which  his  proud,  haughty,  stubborn  heart  was 
made  to  bow  and  say,  "I  must  submit  to  these  rebels."  It 
was  the  brightest  day  during  our  struggle  with  our  cruel 
mother  country.  Then  did  the  God  of  armies  most  pro- 
pitiously smile  upon  our  arms,  and  turn  the  tremendous 
scale  of  destiny  in  our  favor.  But  as  I  took  no  part  in 
the  glorious  scenes,  I  can  claim  no  praise  for  having  been 
born  at  a  crisis  so  peculiarly  auspicious  to  us  and  to  the 
world. 

When  my  father  first  saw  me,  his  heart  devoted  me  to 
the  ministry  and  gave  me  my  present  name,  principally 
from  regard  to  my  great  grandfather  of  Maiden.  Of  this, 
I  was  early  informed;  and  was  afterwards  generally  im- 
pressed and  pleased  with  the  thought,  that  this  was  to  be 
my  profession.  This  impression  probably  had  some  influ- 
2 


14  EARLY    DISEASE BAPTISM. 

ence  to  form  my  character — to  render  my  morals  a  little 
more  strict,  my  deportment  a  little  more  grave,  and  my 
meditations  a  .littte  mote'  serious,  than  otherwise  they 
would- have, .been;  anc\ perhaps  actually  proved  the  occa- 
sion of  wh'at  lias  since  co.me  to  pass  in  relation  to  this 
subject..  ,lf  parents.  yyoU'd  thus  early  devote  their  sdns  to 
the  "mi n't e  try  j  and  pray  for  them  and  educate  them  with 
any  good  oegree'qf  consistency,  no  doubt  we  should  have 
a  supply  <5f  faithful  V.iinist'ers. 

When  I  was  about  six  months  old,  I  was  smitten  by 
cCveve  disease,  winch  lasted  more  tnan  a  year,  and  was 
often  considered  dangerous.  It  seemed  greatly  to  impair 
my  constitution,  and  perhaps  laid  the  foundation  of  suc- 
ceeding infirmities.*  In  my  earlier  days,  however,  the 
evil  effects  of  this  disease,  seem  to  have  been  in  a  great 
measure  warded  off  by  physical  education — by  being 
properly  supplied  with  food,  with  sleep,  with  air,  with 
exercise,  with  exposure,  with  shelter  and  with  pleasant 
pursuits.  O,  that  my  education  in  other  respects  had  not 
been  incomparably  less  excellent. 

Baptism  of  my  infancy.  This  I  consider  as  one  of 
the  greatest  privileges  I  ever  enjoyed.  I  do  hope  and 
trust,  it  has  actually  proved  a  blessing.  Not  that  I  con- 
sider it  as  regeneration,  or  as  certainly  connected  with 
regeneration,  or  as  conferring  church-membership.  Such 
opinions,  I  regard  as  incorrect  and  highly  injurious — as 
having  done  infinite  mischief.  But  to  be  thus  publicly 
and  solemnly  devoted  to  the  glorious  Three,  for  time  and 
for  eternity,  by  tender,  believing  parents — to  enjoy  the 
special  prayers  of  minister  and  church — this  surely  is  a 
privilege  that  should  not  be  lightly  esteemed.  To  me, 
the  wisdom  of  God  appears  most  striking  in  this  precious 
and  most  endearing  ordinance,  by  which  the  parents  are 
most  solemnly  bound  to  train  up  their  children  for  God. 
Though  many  parents  do  most  horribly  violate  these  baptis- 
mal vows,  and  bring  much  reproach  upon  the  institution, 
yet  there  is  no  doubt,  that  christians  in  general,  who 
thus  give  up  their  children  according  to  what  they  under- 

*  Part  of  this  complicated  disease,  was  rickets.  Ho  was  also  afflicted 
with  taenia,  hy  which  liis  life  was  in  great  jeopardy  and  winch  caused  such 
extreme  hunger  that  he  was  suffered  to  sec  no  food  except  the  portion 
which  was  deemed  safe  for  him  to  eat.  Relief  irom  this  part  of  the  evil, 
was  obtained  by  the  use  of  angelica  seed. 


PHYSICAL    EDUCATION.  15 

stand  and  feel  to  be  the  divine  requirements,  do  much  more 
for  the  salvation  of  their  children,  than  if  they  had  made 
no  such  public  engagement.  »  Antl  ~I  <lo  be!-ie.ve,  .that  this 
rite  has  been  among  the  means  'that  God.  ha5^  blessed,  for 
the  conversion  and  salvation,  of  'myriads.  O  ii  pedo, 
baptist  christians  would  perfoim -but  ha ;.f  t-ieii!. baptismal 
vows  in  relation  to  their  children,  how  blessed  would  be 
the  effect !  how  soon  would  the  reprbrtwijo':*  i=*faiitr  baptism, 
be  taken  away.  c  *  ' ■    »  '    i    •    •' 

My  early  Edi/caliayi,  This  jwascMremeJy  imperfect. 
My  physical  education  was  incomparably  the  best.  This 
related  to  the  preservation  and  improvement  of  bodily 
health,  strength,  etc.  This  was  nearly,  though  in  many 
respects  perhaps  not  exactly  what  it  should  be.  I  had 
plenty  of  food  of  the  most  suitable  kind,  simple,  nutricious, 
but  not  luxurious  nor  much  stimulating.  The  first  and 
last  meal  consisted  generally  of  bread  and  milk,  and  the 
second  of  a  little  meat  with  one  or  two  kinds  of  vegetables, 
and  bread  compounded  of  rye  and  indian.  Such  flue  I 
received  with  a  keen  relish  and  entire  satisfaction.  Such 
was  the  fare  of  almost  all  around  me.  Sometimes,  though 
not  often,  I  was  moderately  feasted  by  a  portion  of  pies, 
plain  cakes,  or  white  bread  I  scarcely  ever  tasted  tea 
or  coffee.  Probably  I  enjoyed  my  food  quite  as  highly  as 
those  children,  who  now  fare  sumptuously  every  day,  and 
found  it  much  more  conducive  to  health  and  vigor.  I 
delighted  to  work,  and  still  more  to  play.  I  did  much  of 
both.  My  labors  were  rendered  much  more  pleasant  by 
having  a  little  axe  or  hatchet,  a  little  hoe  and  a  little  rake 
accommodated  to  my  boyish  hands  and  boyish  strength. 
My  sports  were  numerous,  and  sufficiently  abundant. 
These  perhaps  might  have  been  almost  entirely  super- 
ceded, without  any  injury  to  body  or  mind,  by  more 
numerous  and  perfect  implements  of  labor,  by  better  in- 
structions in  the  toils  of  the  field,  and  by  performing 
numerous  philosophical  experiments  such  as  children  may 
easily  perform  with  a  cheap  apparatus,  and  a  little  in- 
struction. Indeed  all  their  instruments  of  labor  and  of 
sport  and  multitudes  of  other  articles,  may  occasionally 
serve  for  philosophical  apparatus.  It  is  important,  how- 
ever, that  they  should  have  older  children  with  them, 
who  have  already  some  acquaintance  with  the  subject,  to 
take  the  lead  in  the  first  operations,  and  to  explain  such 


16  EARLY   LITERARY    EDUCATION. 

principles  as  can  be  easily  understood.  In  this  way,  no 
doubt,  the  child  may  early  and  insensibly  become  a  little 
practical  and  theoretic  piiitusopher,  with  great  advantage 
to.  ids  .conduct,;- to  :jiis„««kul»  in  useful  operations,  to  his 
m^pti'l  improvement,  and  future  science.  As  far  as  pos- 
sibjo, .  practice  and ,  jhe&r|  should  always  go  together. 
The{>ry;&an  hardly  be  understood  without  practice,  nor 
practice  j:frpii?vtd  wuhout  theory.  Their  separation  has 
been  t>a  lyine'of  both. ;  "  ' 

The  literary „  '■■  lis rativh ^of,  w y  < i-Jii\'(ft> ood ,  was  much  infe- 
rior— almost  nothing1.  -.My^parents"  taught  me  very  little, 
and.  my  teachers  scarcely  more.  I  did  indeed  attend 
school  several  months  in  a  year,  but  it  was  attendance 
rather  than  attention.  I  did  scarcely  any  thing.  Almost 
my  whole  business  was,  to  sit  idly  upon  my  seat  through 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  six  long,  long,  tedious  hours  of  the 
school.  Fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  might  have  been  taken 
up  in  reading  and  spelling  alone,  four  times  a  day.  In 
all  this  there  was  scarcely  any  benefit.  It  conduced  rather 
to  dulness  than  to  energy.  It  may  indeed  have  had  some 
effect  to  promote  subordination  and  patience.  But  what  a 
grievous  loss!  How  much  useful  knowledge  and  impor- 
tant habit  might  have  been  gained,  had  I  been  properly 
stimulated  and  properly  taught.  Some  have  supposed 
these  years  the  most  precious  part  of  pupilage.  There  are 
subjects  enough  that  children  can  easily  and  delightfully 
understand  and  profitably  pursue. 

At  eight  or  ten  years  of  age,  I  was  placed  in  a  class, 
and  taught  to  study  my  lessons.  This  rendered  my  liter- 
ary pursuits  somewhat  more  pleasant  and  profitable.  But 
little  progress  was  made,  compared  with  what  might  have 
been.  Besides  reading,  writing  and  spelling,  at  the  dis- 
trict school,  I  paid  some  attention  to  English  Grammar 
and  Arithmetic.  The  latter  interested  me  much,  and  I 
made  some  progress;  but  my  attention  to  Grammar  was 
perhaps  worse  than  lost.  The  greatest  advantage  I  then 
derived  at  school,  was  in  reading  the  New  Testament,  with 
some  parts  of  which  I  was  very  much  interested.  This 
was  much  the  best  religious  instruction  I  then  had. 

My  attention  was  much  more  roused  to  literature  by 
committing  to  memory  and  declaiming  facetious  composi- 
tions  for  the   amusement  of  my  friends.     These  I  could 


EARLY    PROPENSITIES.  17 

understand  and  feel,  and  they  greatly  helped  to  improve 
my  reading. 

Reading  Pilgrim's  Progress  had  a  still  greater  effect.  I 
believed  every  word  to  be  literally  true.  A  good  old  man 
was  kind  enough  to  tell  me,  that  every  part  of  it  had  a 
striking  and  wonderful  spiritual  meaning.  I  thought  him 
an  old  fool,  and  still  chose  to  retain  my  opinion. 

Still  more  interesting  and  stimulating,  was  the  reading 
of  Milton's  Paradise  Lost.  Having  heard  a  part  of  the 
story  of  it  with  the  most  thrilling  emotions,  I  longed  most 
ardently  to  read  it. 


This  is  the  last  sentence  of  his  narrative,  as  dictated  by 
my  brother  to  his  youngest  daughter,  as  she  sat  by  his 
dying  bed.  Alas — it  has  closed  when  just  begun !  Would 
that  he  might  have  been  spared  to  trace,  in  his  own  pecu- 
liar style,  at  least  a  few  more  lineaments  in  the  picture  of 
his  opening  mind,  glowing  as  it  was  with  the  seraphic 
spirit  of  poetry,  and  'ardently  longing  to  read  of  that  Par- 
adise which  we  had  lost  by  sin.'  But  God  saw  fit  that 
here  his  labor  should  thus  abruptly  end,  and  his  spirit  be 
called  to  enter  the  Paradise  regained  by  a  Savior's  blood. 
Bowing  to  the  divine  will,  we  must  say,  Even  so,  amen! 
Thanks  to  that  God  that  spared  his  frail  life  so  long  ;  and 
thus  gave  him  a  delight  to  work  while  the  day  should  last. 
Were  his  beloved  pupils  and  intimate  friends  now  present, 
they  would  unitedly  bend  the  knee  with  me  to  implore 
that  grace  I  so  deeply  need  in  attempting  to  continue  this 
narrative.  May  it  be  simply  for  God's  glory  and  the  best 
good  of  those  who  may  read  it. 

Being  younger  than  himself  by  ten  years,  I  can  person- 
ally recollect  no  facts  respecting  his  childhood.  Before 
closing  this  chapter,  however,  1  will  adduce  one  or  two 
which  I  have  learned  from  his  acquaintances. 

At  the  earliest  period,  he  was  distinguished  for  the 
frank  declaration  of  truth.  If,  for  instance,  any  disturb- 
ance occurred  in  schooJ,  his  teacher  would  always  rely  on 
his  honesty  to  confess  or  to  declare  the  facts  in  the  case, 
when  called  upon. 

The  same  frankness  early  appeared  in  the  expression  of 
his  opinions  ;  and  that  perhaps  in  cases  where  nothing  but 
2* 


18 


FRANKNESS. ANECDOTE. 


his  honesty  could  apologise  for  the  seeming  impudence. 
A  very  respectable  townsman,  whose  early  trade  was  that 
of  a  shoemaker,  and  who  for  a  while  possessed  but  little 
property,  used  often  pleasantly  to  relate  the  following  short 
dialogue  that  passed  between  them.  While  Joseph  was 
one  day  amusing  himself  in  his  shop  by  pounding  leather, 
he  noticed  stones  instead  of  andirons  in  the  fire-place. 
"What  do  you  have  them  stones  there  for?  My  father 
has  andirons.  Why  don't  you?"  "O,  I  am  a  poor  man. 
I  can't  afford  to  have  andirons."  He  continued  pounding, 
and  in  a  thoughtful  mood,  and  nothing  more  was  said  for 
some  time.  When  the  good  man  had  forgotten  what  had 
passed,  he  was  suddenly  accosted  again:  "I  don't  believe 
that  is  the  reason  !"  "The  reason  for  what?"  "The  rea- 
son why  you  don't  have  andirons."  "Well,  what  then  do 
you  think  it  is?"  "I  believe  it  is  because  you  are  too 
shiftless!"  This  was  all  as  soberly  said  by  him,  as  it  was 
indulgently  heard  and  pleasantly  rehearsed  by  the  kind 
neighbor. 

Few  that  have  been  intimately  acquainted  with  my 
brother,  will  here  fail  to  recognize  the  germination  of 
traits  which  were  afterwards  prominent  in  his  character. 
He  was  himself  habitually  and  deeply  impressed  with  his 
inbred  propensity  to  an  abrupt,  if  not  a  blunt  declaration  of 
his  independent  opinion;  and  while  he  labored  to  cultivate 
a  real  independence  of  judgment  as  a  sterling  excellence 
in  the  pursuit  of  truth,  he  prayed  much  and  labored  much 
to  soften  the  expression  of  his  opinions,  and  to  adapt  his 
language  to  the  persons  he  addressed  and  the  circumstan- 
ces in  which  he  spoke.  He  often  cautioned  other  mem- 
bers of  the  family  against  this  propensity  to  bluntness,  of 
which  he  was  so  conscious,  calling  it  "that  portion  of  old 
father  Moody  which  some  of  us  inherit."  Indeed,  he 
carried  his  caution  to  such  an  extent,  as  more  frequently 
to  err  on  the  score  of  extreme  delicacy,  than  that  of  blunt- 
ness, in  the  expression  of  adverse  opinions,  and  in  admin- 
istering reproof.  Whether  it  was  from  native  feeling  or 
acquired  habit,  no  man  would  less  readily  wound  the  ear 
or  the  heart  of  a  friend. 

Another  anecdote  of  his  early  childhood,  I  may  here 
mention,  which  will  serve  to  illustrate  at  once  his  native 
temperament  and  the  power  of  early  discipline.  I  have  it 
from  my  sister  Smith,  who  took  the  chief  care  of  him  in 


EFFECT    OF    EARLY    DISCIPLINE. 


19 


his  tender  years,  my  mother  being  often  too  feeble.  He 
was  naturally  irritable  and  impetuous.  His  friends  may 
have  supposed  the  reverse,  but  my  sister  assures  me  of  the 
fact.  At  about  the  age  of  three  or  four  years,  he  one  day 
flew  at  his  sister  Hannah,  in  a  great  raga,  and  began  to 
kick  her.  Upon  this,  Ama,  (now  Mrs.  S.)  took  him  by 
the  arms,  and  holding  him  fast,  remonstrated  with  him  in 
the  most  serious  and  decided  tones,  for  a  good  while.  At 
length,  all  at  once,  he  submitted;  his  hands  dropped  su- 
pine at  his  sides;  and  she  never  afterwards  witnessed  in 
him  the  like  exhibition  of  temper;  and  probably  no  one 
else  witnessed  the  like,  from  that  time  to  his  death.  Pas- 
sion, indeed,  he  doubtless  afterwards  felt,  and  sometimes  ex- 
hibited in  a  degree.  It  would  glare  for  a  moment,  says 
Mrs.  S.,  in  his  eye,  and  then  fade  back  into  mildness. 
For  myself,  I  can  say,  that  1  have  not  the  least  recollec- 
tion of  any  indication  of  anger  during  his  life;  but  my 
recollections  of  him  are  imperfect  previous  to  the  time 
when  grace  had  increased  what  discipline  began.  How 
blessed  are  the  effects  of  right  discipline  at  the  right  time. 
What  a  decided  victory  did  it  help  him  thus  early  to  gain. 
How  much  trouble  and  pain  may  it  have  prevented  to  his 
parents,  playfellows,  schoolmates,  and  more  important  as- 
sociates in  active  life.  And  how  much  positive  good  may 
it  have  occasioned,  by  contributing  to  turn  the  strong  tide 
of  his  passions  into  the  prolific  channels  of  sympathy  and 
love.  And  who  can  tell  the  influence  it  may  have  exerted, 
under  the  providence  and  Spirit  of  God,  on  the  early  sub- 
jugation of  his  heart  to  the  obedience  of  the  faith  !  Had 
the  masculine  mother  of  Bonaparte,  instead  of  encourag- 
ing his  unhallowed  and  ambitious  spirit,  but  rightly  inter- 
posed the  check  of  timely  discipline,  that  man  of  blood 
might  perhaps  early  have  become,  (what  his  ungodly  com- 
panions began  to  fear  of  him  under  the  pressure  of  his  final 
exile,)  a  ".metiiodist,"  a  pious  man,  perchance  a  mighty 
preacher  of  righteousness.  Surely  the  time  will  come 
when  the  christian  discipline  of  children  will  be  better  un- 
derstood and  better  administered,  in  the  spirit  of  mingled 
firmness,  love  and  faith,  and  with  suitable  appeals  to  the 
conscience.  Not  till  then,  will  the  little  Bonapartes,  and 
Nebuchadnezzars,  and  Manassehs  be  saved  from  a  life  of 
blood,  and  bitter  repentance  in  exile  from  among  men, 
and  the  earth  be  afflicted  with  war  no  more. 


20 


NOT    DESIGNED    TO    BE    A    FARMER. 


Still,  we  are  not  to  attribute  too  much  to  the  power  of 
early  education,  lest  by  extravagant  theory  we  destroy  all 
faith  in  its  real  power.  What  it  appears  to  do  for  one,  it 
may  not  effect  for  another.  There  are  springs  in  the 
complicated  machinery  of  human  action,  that  none  but 
the  eye  of  the  Omniscient  can  see,  and  no  finger  but  his 
can  touch. 

As  it  respects  my  brother's  readiness  to  labor,  of  which 
he  speaks,  I  have  no  doubt,  but  as  to  the  amount  which  he 
performed  on  the  farm,  I  doubt  whether  his  statement,  as 
it  is  liable  to  be  understood,  will  convey  a  right  impression: 
and  as  physical  education  now  justly  claims  so  much  at- 
tention, it  may  not  be  improper  to  enlarge  the  statement, 
especially  as  it  respects  one  who  was  always  an  invalid, 
and  whose  constitution  might  perhaps  have  been  further 
benefitted  by  more  of  such  labor.  I  well  recollect  his  dex- 
terity and  delight  in  raking  hay.  Some  of  the  other  em- 
ployments of  the  farmer,  he  may  also  have  understood  :  but 
I  greatly  doubt  whether  he  ever  understood  or  performed 
much  of  such  business.  His  early  life  was  frequently  a 
topic  of  remark  by  my  father  in  my  hearing;  but  while  he 
gave  him  large  credit  for  other  and  more  important  things, 
there  was  but  little  on  the  score  of  manual  labor.  No 
charge  of  idleness  was  ever  hinted  ;  but  a  want  of  adapt- 
edness  to  the  business  of  a  farm,  was  a  frequent  theme, 
and  one  that  was  occasionally  illustrated  by  examples  that 
would  make  a  farmer  smile.  One  day,  my  father  set  him 
to  drive  oxen  at  the  plough.  He  took  the  whip  for  the 
purpose,  and  very  honestly  went,  as  it  happened,  to  the 
off-side.  The  whip  was  resumed,  and  his  labors  in  that 
department  dispensed  with.  In  fact  he  never  knew  how 
to  speak  to  an  ox  or  a  horse,  nor  how  to  take  care  of 
either — a  deficiency  of  which  himself  seemed  less  con- 
scious than  his  animal.  God  had  made  him  for  other 
cares,  and  to  these  higher  cares  his  father  had  dedicated 
him  in  infancy.  And  as  no  expectation  was  entertained 
of  his  becoming  a  farmer,  probably  but  little  effort  was 
made  to  enlist  his  feelings  or  improve  his  skill  in  those 
parts  of  business  for  which  he  discovered  no  particular 
taste.  His  health  was  also  too  frail  for  very  efficient  labor. 
Our  tender  mother,  while  she  lived,  was  at  least  suffi- 
ciently afraid  that  her  sons  would  be  injured  by  hard 
work  ;   and  he  was  pretty  early  dismissed  to  his  studijs  in 


AGRICULTURAL    PURSUITS.  21 

preparation  for  college.  Had  he  labored  longer  on  the 
farm,  and  become  more  familiar  with  the  complicated  rou- 
tine of  its  manly,  invigorating,  and  improving  occupations, 
it  might  have  given  him  more  vigor  of  constitution,  while 
it  could  not  have  failed  to  benefit  his  practical  judgment 
in  all  human  affairs.  I  know  of  no  occupation  so  well 
adapted  to  produce  this  last  mentioned  and  very  desirable 
effect,  as  that  of  the  farmer.  Common  sense  is  every 
thing  to  the  farmer,  and  must  be  kept  in  constant  requisi- 
tion. A  tact  for  devising  expedients  to  the  accomplish- 
ment of  the  details  of  his  business,  is  incessantly  culti- 
vated. The  mechanic  may  work  merely  by  rule,  and  thus 
himself  become  almost  a  machine — very  exact  and  nice, 
so  far  as  his  rules  will  guide  him,  but  nonplussed  when 
these  fail.  His  mental  effort,  in  that  case,  becomes 
chiefly  that  of  the  memory,  not  the  judgment.  Not  so 
with  the  farmer.  Constantly  compelled  to  act  in  new  cir- 
cumstances, for  which  he  has  no  specific  rule,  he  is  called 
to  continual  acts  of  independent  judgment.  Every  foot  of 
fence  that  he  makes,  every  step  that  he  guides  the  plough, 
every  stroke  with  the  scythe,  the  sickle,  or  the  hoe,  de- 
mands a  fresh  and  prompt  exercise  of  practical  judgment. 
So  does  the  estimate,  the  care,  and  the  management  of 
his  animals.  Thus  the  farmer  becomes  what  himself  so 
significantly  designates  by  the  term,  a  man  of  common  sense. 
Practical  philosophy  is  his  pursuit  from  morning  to  night. 
Thus  the  New-England  youth,  bred  on  the  paternal  farm, 
may  thence  shape  his  course  for  any  profession,  and  excel  in 
it  those  who  have  done  nothing  but  to  study  for  that  pro- 
fession. Master  of  expedients,  inured  to  hardship,  and 
acquainted  with  common  character,  he  may  go  to  the  ends 
of  the  earth,  and  take  the  lead  in  any  business.  Give  us 
then  the  farm,  in  preference  to  any  other  school,  for  both 
physical  and  mental  improvement,  during  a  suitable  por- 
tion of  the  period  of  youth. 

The  invigorating  sports  of  my  brother,  were  longer 
pursued:  and,  as  himself  intimates,  with  a  keener  relish. 
Few  could  propel  or  catch  the  ball  like  him  ;  and  he  was 
long  remembered  on  the  tennis  common.  He  was  also 
fond  of  fishing,  and  hunting,  and  skating.  Still  these 
pursuits  were  not  regarded  as  his  business,  but  his  recrea- 
tion, to  prepare  him  the   better  for  efficient   study.     But 


22  HIS    PERSON. 

whether  to  work,  to  study,  or  to  play,  it  was  done  with  his 
might. 

I  may  as  well  observe  here  as  any  where,  that  in  person, 
my  brother  was  tall,  and  slender,  in  proportion  to  his  size, 
lacking  an  inch  or  two  of  six  feet  in  height; — alert  in  his 
motions,  but  not  strong.  In  the  latter  part  of  life,  he  was 
bowed  and  emaciated  by  disease.  His  countenance  was 
rather  dark,  and  his  eyes  hazel,  with  a  mild  expression. 

Some  incidental  remarks  respecting  himself  while  at 
the  common  school,  will  be  found  in  the  next  chapter,  in 
connection  with  other  matters  from  his  own  pen. 

In  early  life,  he  was  facetious,  and  also  rather  fond  of 
what  are  termed  practical  jokes.  A  vein  of  pleasantry, 
indeed,  ran  through  his  whole  life;  but  well  subdued  and 
modified  in  maturer  days. 

One  more  fact  is  worthy  of  a  place  among  the  memo- 
randa of  his  early  years.  It  has  been  said  of  him,  that, 
when  quite  young,  and  in  the  absence  of  my  father,  he 
would  ask  a  blessing  and  return  thanks,  at  the  family 
table,  with  great  solemnity  and  propriety. 


CHAPTER     II. 

FROM    HIS    CHILDHOOD    TO    HIS    GRADUATION    AT    COLLEGE. 

At  the  Academy — Enters  College — Relinquishes  a  project 
of  leaving  Harvard  for  Dartmouth — Influence  of 
emulation  on  his  character  and  studies — Death  of  a 
young  brother — Religious  state  of  the  College. 

1  have  been  able  to  learn  but  little  concerning  him  during 
his  studies  preparatory  for  admission  to  college.  A  part 
of  this  time,  perhaps  the  whole  of  it,  he  was  at  the  acade- 
my in  New-Ipswich,  N.  H,,  then  under  the  care  of  Mr. 
Hubbard,  who  was  afterwards  professor  in  Dartmouth 
College.  But  I  have  no  facts  illustrative  of  his  character 
or  his  proficiency  in  study  while  there,  except  the  flatter- 
ing mention  of  him  in  my  hearing,  some  years  after,  by 
Esq.  Hartwell,  in  whose  family  he  boarded. 

In  the  year  1794,  he  entered  the  freshmen  class  in 
Cambridge  College,  in  the  seventeenth  year  of  his  age,  at 
the  time  when  his  oldest  brother  Daniel,  since  dead,  left 
it.  At  the  close  of  his  first  year  in  college,  as  appears 
from  the  following  letter,  he  made  arrangements  for  re- 
moving to  Dartmouth  College.  I  insert  the  letter  entire, 
as  much  for  the  purpose  of  showing  the  characteristics  of 
his  mind  at  that  period,  as  for  the  account  it  contains  of 
his  circumstances.  It  is  addressed  to  Mr.  Stephen  Bemis, 
then  a  student  at  Dartmouth. 

Cambridge,  Sept.  2-1,  1795. 

My  Friend, — Since  I  am  greatly  pressed  for  time,  I  shall 
say,  what  I  have  to  say,  in  our  vernacular  tongue.  When  I 
saw  you  last,  I  expressed  some  intentions  to  dissolve  my 
present  connections,  and  to  become  your  classmate.  All 
this  I  suppose  you  took  to  be  a  mere  jest,  and  thought  my 
words  were  rather  intended  to  keep  conversation  alive,  than 
to  signify  any  real  design  to  leave  my  present  habitation. 
Whether  you  understood  me  to  be  in  earnest   or  not,  I 


24  LETTER    TO    S.    BEMIS. 

cannot  tell;  but  I  assure  you,  what  I  said  was  the  real  ex- 
pectation of  my  heart.  My  intentions  increased  continu- 
ally by  slow  degrees  until  commencement.  After  I  went 
home  in  vacation,  they  soon  grew  to  a  resolution,  which 
every  day  became  more  fixed;  and  one  thing,  which  served 
to  strengthen  it,  was,  that  I  did  not  expect  a  room  in  col- 
lege, and  it  would  not  be  convenient  living  out  in  town. 
I  carried  my  determination  so  far,  that  I  even  provided 
means  for  my  transportation,  and  thought  there  were  at 
least  ten  chances  that  I  should  go,  to  one  that  I  should 
not.  A  few  days  before  our  vacation  expired,  1  made  a 
journey  to  Cambridge  in  order  to  dissolve  my  connections. 
Upon  my  arrival  here,  I  found  the  government  had  as- 
signed me  an  excellent  room ;  other  circumstances  too 
seemed  to  rise  up  and  forbid  my  leaving  this  antiquated 
seat  of  literature. 

Frequently  did  the  many  pleasing  hours,  I  had  spent 
here,  recur  to  my  mind,  and  frequently  did  my  heart  pal- 
pitate with  the  great  esteem  I  had  for  many  of  my  class. 
Sweet  was  the  remembrance  of  past  times.  I  went  imme- 
diately to  Charl&stown,  where  I  found  my  brother,  who 
used  many  arguments,  and  reminded  me  of  many  circum- 
stances, before  unthought  of,  all  of  which  tended  to  dis- 
suade me  from  my  former  determinations.  The  next  day 
I  returned  to  Cambridge,  where  1  reviewed  my  transac- 
tions, and  weighed,  as  justly  as  was  in  my  power,  every 
circumstance.  One  minute,  some  advantage  peculiar  to 
your  college,  would  so  forcibly  impress  my  mind,  that  I 
was  fully  determined  to  take  up  my  connections  here  and 
go  to  Hanover;  the  next,  some  circumstance  peculiar  to 
Harvard,  would  directly  invert  my  mind.  One  moment  I 
figured  to  myself,  how  I  should  be  transported  in  walking 
with  you  upon  your  delightsome  green,  on  the  fertile  mar- 
gin of  that  beauteous  river;  the  next,  I  considered  that  my 
mother's  life  was  not  expected  fiom  one  month's  end  to 
another's,  and  I  should  not  hear  from  home  once  in  three 
months.  Thus  was  my  mind  alternately  agitated  between 
two  resolutions,  till  I  at  last  fixed  upon  a  determination, 
which  I  fear  will  seclude  me  from  your  presence  for  a 
longer  time  than  T  shall  patiently  wait.  Yet,  thanks  to 
old  Cadmus,*  I  have  one  consolation  left;  I  hope  the  short 

*  Alluding  to  the  alphabet,  a  portion  of  which  was  introduced  into 
Greece  by  Cadmus. 


IMPORTANT    DECISION.  25 

distance  of  one  hundred  and  forty  miles,  or  less,  will  not 
entirely  cuf  off  all  means  of  conversation,  and  flatter  my- 
self that  I  shall  frequently  receive  such  pleasing  portions 
of  your  thoughts,  by  the  medium  of  letters,  as  shall  be  like 
the  balm  of  Gilead  to  my  soul,  and  afford  infinite  comfort 
to  my  mind. 

I  have  a  thousand  things  to  write ;  yet  a  thousand 
things  must  go  unwritten  at  present,  since  I  have  neither 
time  nor  room  to  write  them. 

O  may  Minerva  seat  you  on  her  throne, 
May  al!  the  muses  own  you  for  their  son. 

Yours,  a/c  tcv  aiZvx 

J.  Emerson. 

Thus  the  scale  barely  turned  in  favor  of  his  remaining 
at  Cambridge, — and  so  turning,  virtually  decided  his 
whole  destination  for  future  life.  Scarcely  can  a  more 
important  thing  be  named  in  the  external  circumstances  of 
a  young  man,  than  that  of  the  college  at  which  he  is  to 
complete  his  early  course  of  study.  There,  peculiarly,  is 
his  mind  to  be  shaped,  and  his  intimacies  to  be  formed 
with  those  who  are  to  act  their  part  with  him  in  the  drama 
of  life  :  and  from  that  point  he  takes  his  destination  in  re- 
spect to  all  that  is  to  follow.  Had  my  brother,  for  instance, 
removed  to  Dartmouth,  he  might  never  have  resided  for  a 
day  in  any  one  of  the  places  in  which  he  afterwards  abode 
for  years ;  and  perhaps  would  never  have  seen  one  out  of 
a  hundred  of  those  who  have  since  become  endeared  to 
him  by  relations  which  are  to  last  for  eternity.  Whether 
he  would  have  done  more  or  less  good  in  the  world,  or 
have  been  more  or  less  happy,  we  cannot  conjecture  ;  but 
the  consequences  would  doubtless  have  been  widely  di- 
verse to  himself  and  to  others.  The  contemplative  youth, 
the  parent,  the  guardian,  who  takes  this  view  of  the  com- 
plicated wheels  of  Providence,  will  never  decide  a  ques- 
tion so  deeply  fraught  with  unknown  consequences,  with- 
out first  committing  his  way  to  that  God  "who  kuoweth 
the  end  from  the  beginning."  So  trivial  a  circumstance 
as  the  '  accommodations  of  a  room,'  will  weigh  but  little  in 
the  scale  of  duty,  which  is  lifted  for  the  balance  of  moral 
probabilities,  not  temporary  convenience. 
3 


26  ON    EMULATION. 

The  "  room,"  however,  was  not  the  only  thing  with  my 
brother,  in  this  case,  though  it  came  to  have  a  serious 
bearing  on  the  question  :  but  it  has  been  intimated  to  me, 
by  a  respected  correspondent,  that  it  was  an  early  trait  in 
his  character  to  vaccillate,  and  to  decide  questions  some- 
times from  the  circumstances  of  the  moment,  especially 
when  feelings  of  friendship  were  involved  in  the  decision. 
The  above  letter  appears,  indeed,  to  bear  such  an  impress  ; 
but  he  subsequently  learnt  a  more  divine  logic. 

I  shall  here  subjoin  some  connected  extracts,  taken 
from  two  pieces  of  his  on  emulation  as  a  proper  stimulus 
to  effort.  The  first  of  these  pieces  was  published  in  the 
Connecticut  Observer,  of  1828 ;  and  the  other  in  the 
Annals  of  Education,  for  1832,  vol.  ii.  p.  354.  While 
these  extracts  will  cast  light  on  the  period  of  his  college 
life,  they  will  be  found  also  to  reflect  back  considerable 
upon  the  earlier  period  of  his  childhood. 

It  may  be  proper,  before  the  extracts,  to  remark,  that 
my  brother  expressly  defines  the  sense  in  which  he  uses 
the  term  emulation,  being  the  same  as  the  scripture  use 
of  it  in  Romans  xi.  14,  where  Paul  speaks  of*  provoking 
to  emulation  them  which  were  his  own  flesh' — '  a  desire  to 
do  more  than  others  in  what  is  just  and  good,' — not  an 
onhallowed  and  envious  ambition.  Had  the  term  been 
uniformly  employed  in  this  sense  by  others,  and  had  all 
been  able,  from  their  personal  experience,  to  enter  into  its 
genuine  import,  there  would  have  been  less  dispute  re- 
specting the  thing,  if  not  concerning  the  means  to  be  em- 
ployed for  exciting  it.  But  we  proceed  to  the  extracts, 
the  principal  object  of  which  is  not  here  so  much  the 
discussion  as  the  historic  allusions  it  contains  to  my 
brother's  early  history. 

"Experience  has  taught  me  to  favor  the  use  of  emulation. 
And  here  I  must  beg  for  the  utmost  exercise  of  candor,  to 
overlook  the  apparent  egotism  of  stating  my  own  experi- 
ence. This  is  my  strong  hold.  At  least  next  to  the  bible 
itself,  which  bids  me  regard  whatsoever  things  are  excel- 
lent, and  covet  earnestly  the  best  gifts,  experience  is  my 
strong  hold,  from  which  it  seems  to  me,  I  can  never  be 
driven.  Is  it  not  most  unpropitious  to  the  progress  of 
mental  philosophy,  that  a  person  can  hardly  publish  the 
exercises  of  his  own  mind,  but  at  the  risk  of  his  character? 


RIVAL    AT    SCHOOL. 


27 


Presuming  upon  the  indulgence  of  my  readers,  I  will  ven- 
'.ure  to  testily  a  few  things,  that  I  know,  upon  this  sub- 
ject. 

"  I  have  not  felt  those  dreadful  effects  from  emulation, 
that  many  fear — that  many  think  inseparable  from  its 
vigorous  exercise.  I  do  acknowledge  my  indebtedness  to 
emulation.  If  any  mental  principle  has  ever  done  me 
good,  it  is  assuredly  this;  though  not  indeed  without  some 
alloy  of  evil.  Most  confident  I  am,  that  it  has  conduced 
to  restrain  me  from  many  evils — that  it  has  conduced  to 
make  me  more  industrious,  more  orderly,  more  obedient 
to  parents  and  teachers,  more  moral,  more  knowing — that, 
if  I  am  truly  religious,  it  has  conduced  to  make  me  such, 
to  make  me  a  better  christian,  a  better  teacher,  a  better 
minister. 

"  But  these  are  only  general  statements.  The  argument 
would  be  entirely  defective,  if  I  did  not  descend  to  partic- 
ulars. I  felt  the  power  of  emulation  in  early  childhood. 
I  felt  it  in  my  boyish  sports,  in  my  rustic  toils,  in  the  be- 
ginning of  my  literary  pursuits.  It  roused  my  activity, 
and  made  me  run  to  my  labor,  as  well  as  to  my  school, 
and  to  my  play.  Sometimes  I  had  the  happiness  to  out- 
strip others ;  but  often  saw  my  fellows  before  me  in  the 
race.  I  trust  I  was  not  much  exercised  with  envy  for  the 
latter,  nor  contempt  for  the  former.  I  did  indeed  feel 
contempt  for  those,  who  seemed  to  be  scarcely  touched 
with  the  spur  of  emulation,  and  whom  I  could  hardly  re- 
gard as  my  competitors. 

"  And  now  I  must  be  allowed  most  solemnly  to  testify, 
that  according  to  the  best  of  my  recollection,  I  never  in- 
dulged in  hating  a  rival ;  no,  not  for  an  hour  ;  nor  had 
occasion  to  strive  against  it.  If,  for  a  moment,  I  ever  felt 
the  stir  of  envy,  in  consequence  of  sudden  and  grievous 
discomfiture,  it  was  but  for  a  moment.  It  was  but  the 
lightning's  stroke  upon  the  tranquil  sea;  when,  instantly 
all  is  smooth  and  peaceful.  Nay,  my  rivals  have  been 
among  my  dearest  friends.  This  was  especially  the  case 
with  my  greatest  rival ;  not  indeed  the  greatest  in  genius 
or  attainments;  but  the  greatest  in  contest ;  by  whom  I 
have  been  the  most  outdone.  As  my  argument  rests 
much  upon  this  case,  more  than  upon  any  other  of  my 
experience,  I  must  beg  leave  to  state  it  with  some  partic- 
ularity.    Our  contest  was  at  school,  in  our  boyish  days,  at 


28  EMULATION. 

the  age  of  twelve,  thirteen,  and  fourteen.  He  was  about 
a  year  younger  than  myself.  Honesty  seemed  to  be 
written  in  large  capitals  upon  his  face.  Doubtless  he  was 
in  this  respect,  such  a  one  as  Shakespeare  would  pro- 
nounce 'one  of  ten  thousand.'  Neither  of  us  had  then 
much  to  fear  from  any  other  rival.  The  contest  was  in 
spelling  and  writing.  In  these  he  won  the  meed  and  the 
prize.  But  I  did  not  hate  ;  did  not  envy.  I  felt  no  dis- 
position to  complain  of  him  or  of  the  teacher.  I  felt  that 
he  had  gained  every  inch  of  advantage  by  fair  means,  by 
lawful  striving ;  and  that  he  deserved  to  be  thus  openly 
crowned.  And  I  believe  the  whole  school  rejoiced  to  see 
such  honor  conferred  upon  one,  who,  though  not  a  leader 
in  sports,  not  eloquent,  not  facetious,  not  possessed  of  any 
special  personal  attraction,  except  that  honest  look,  yet  one 
who  never  injured  them,  who  gave  them  such  an  example 
of  punctuality,  application,  and  patience,  and  who  perhaps 
never  received  from  his  teacher  one  word  or  look  of  dis- 
pleasure. 

"  It  is  worthy  of  special  notice,  that  while  we  were  thus 
emulously  pressing  towards  the  mark,  we  often  aided 
each  other  in  the  race  ;  and  I  believe  neither  of  us  ever 
did  the  least  thing  to  retard  his  fellow.  When  our  associ- 
ates were  engaged  in  sports,  we  were  sometimes  employed 
together,  in  pronouncing  words  to  each  other  in  the  spell- 
ing lesson,  each  aiding  his  competitor  to  gain  the  ascend- 
ancy. This  was  done,  as  1  trust,  without  the  least  un- 
pleasant emotion.  This  mutual  kind  feeling,  I  am  confi- 
dent, has  never  ceased  ;  though  I  know  no  reason  for  my 
special  attachment  to  him,  but  his  good  conduct.  Had  he 
won  the  prize  by  unlawful  means,  no  doubt  my  resent- 
ment, my  envy,  my  fierce  wrath,  would  have  been  kindled; 
and  our  contentions  might  have  been  almost  like  the  bars 
of  a  castle. 

"The  stimulating  influence  of  such  a  friend  and  rival,  I 
consider  one  of  the  greatest  blessings  I  ever  enjoyed.  To 
be  seated  continually  at  his  side,  sometimes  above  him, 
though  more  frequently  below  him,  to  see  his  intense  ap- 
plication, his  untiring  patience,  his  vigorous  efforts  for 
improvement,  his  unexceptionable  morals,  and  propriety 
of  conduct — could  not  but  be  favorable  to  my  progress. 
It  might  indeed  have  been  salutary  in  a  mere  friend,  but 
much  more  so  in  a  rival.     If  I  have  been  enabled  in  any 


RIVALS    AT    COLLEGE.  29 

measure  to  benefit  others,  I  have  probably  owed  it  more  to 
that  boy,  than  to  any  literary  teacher.  Nearly  similar,  as 
it  respects  the  feelings  excited,  have  been  all  the  literary 
competitions  of  my  pupilage.  I  cannot  doubt  that  they 
conduced  to  preserve  me  from  idleness,  from  truantship, 
from  animosity  and  misrule. 

"  The  effects  of  my  emulation  at  college  were  happier 
still.  There  its  influence  was  more  energetic.  I  was 
particularly  excited  by  the  exhortation  of  an  elder  brother, 
who  panted  for  my  improvement.  I  can  never  forget  the 
force  with  which  his  words  dropped  upon  my  heart. 
"From  two-thirds  of  your  class,"  said  he,  "you  have  noth- 
ing to  fear.  With  the  other  third,  you  must  dispute  every 
inch."  Kindled  to  enthusiasm,  I  bounded  forward  in  the 
race.  But  it  was  not  a  race  of  malice.  My  chosen,  my 
dearest  associates  were  almost  wholly  from  among  those, 
from  whom  alone,  as  rivals,  I  had  anything  to  fear — with 
whom  I  delighted  to  reciprocate  instruction  to  the  very 
utmost.  I  never  grieved,  I  always  rejoiced,  to  hear  their 
correct  and  ready  answers,  their  fine  translations,  their 
commanding  eloquence,  their  thrilling  rhetoric,  and  every 
performance  suited  to  awaken  in  the  teachers  the  glad 
well  done.  Nor  did  I  rejoice,  but  always  mourned,  when 
they  manifestly  failed  of  their  wonted  excellence.  1  do 
not  recollect  ever  to  have  had  a  contention  with  any  of 
them,  unless  the  most  friendly  contending  for  eminence  is 
contention.  I  never  was  displeased  with  their  good  per- 
formances; but  only  stimulated  to  desire  and  strive  to  do 
as  well — if  possible,  to  do  better.  Nor  was  I  grieved  or 
envious,  when  some  of  them,  by  more  honorable  appoint- 
ments, were  placed  before  me.  If  they  had  not  surpassed 
me  in  diligence  and  good  conduct,  they  had  been  favored 
with  superior  talents  and  superior  health.  I  felt  that  they 
had  fairly  earned  the  meed  they  enjoyed. 

"My  emulation  was  considerably  quickened  by  regard 
for  a  most  honored  father,  from  whose  funds  were  all  my 
pecuniary  supplies.  I  wished  that  a  good  report  might  be 
truly  made  to  him  of  my  conduct  and  my  scholarship  ;  and 
I  had  scarcely  any  idea  of  scholarship,  but  by  comparison 
with  my  fellows. 

"  A  still  happier  effect,  which  I  then  most  probably  real- 
ized from  emulation,  was,  that  it  apparently  delivered  me 
from  the  destructive  influence  of  the  theatre.     It  delivered 
3* 


30  EMULATION. 

me  when  I  was  actually  sinking  in  deep  mire.  It  would 
have  been  better  still,  if  it  had  saved  me  entirely  from  the 
polluting  touch  of  that  moral  pestilence.  This  it  did  not 
do.  With  grief  and  shame,  I  must  confess,  that  neither 
this,  nor  a  religious  education,  nor  studious  habits,  nor  all 
these  and  other  motives  united,  did  entirely  prevent  me 
from  entering  that  school  of  vice.  A  few  times  I  attended. 
With  the  honest  gains  of  a  most  tender  father,  and  without 
his  consent  or  knowledge,  I  purchased  this  jeopardy  of  my 
soul.  This  I  did  to  the  neglect  of  my  studies,  to  the 
neglect  of  college  exercises,  to  gratify  a  vain  and  wicked 
curiosity.  I  violated  a  wholesome  law  of  the  college,  that 
I  had  particularly  bound  myself  to  keep.  I  sent  a  false 
excuse  to  my  teacher,  for  neglecting  a  recitation.  This 
was  a  sudden  and  tremendous  plunge  from  virtuous  habits, 
which  is  probably  not  very  frequent  in  the  history  of  ruin. 
Nor  was  this  the  worst.  I  was  charmed,  I  was  infatuated 
with  what  I  had  seen  and  heard.  My  heart  was  often 
dancing  to  the  syren  song  of  '  The  merry,  merry  mountain- 
eers.'' It  echoed  back  upon  recollection,  when  I  should 
have  been  absorbed  in  study.  And  when  I  consider  what 
powerful  restraints  I  overcame,  how  aggravated  were  my 
offences,  I  have  reason  for  admiring  gratitude,  that  I  was 
not  given  up  to  my  own  lusts  a  prey — that  I  was  delivered 
as  from  the  very  jaws  of  the  lion.  Of  this  deliverance,  I 
consider  emulation  as  having  been,  under  Providence,  the 
principal  cause.  By  emulation,  I  had  acquired  studious 
habits,  a  relish  for  books,  and  a  lively  sensibility  to  char- 
acter. These,  for  a  time,  were  depressed  by  theatrical 
enchantment.  But  soon  the  glare  of  the  stage  became 
somewhat  dimmed,  these  forces  resumed  their  ascendency, 
and  those  chambers  of  death  were  forever  forsaken.  But 
for  emulation,  I  might  have  gone  from  the  theatre  to 
haunts  more  infamous,  and  from  those  haunts  to  the  eter- 
nal pit. 

"  Soon  after  that  great  deliverance,  (probably  the  great- 
est ever  conferred  upon  me  by  the  providence  of  God,)  my 
attention  was  powerfully  arrested  to  the  concerns  of  im- 
mortality, in  the  midst  of  the  excitements  of  emulation, 
without  any  particular  cause  that  I  now  recollect.  The 
place  of  my  residence  was  the  very  frigid  zone  of  religious 
feeling.  Not  that  emulation  directly  produced  this  sol- 
emn  impression.     There  was  nothing  around  me  that  was 


ITS  CONSERVATIVE  INFLUENCE.  31 

suited  to  provoke  to  serious  emulation.  And  ere  long,  as 
I  humbly  hope,  I  was  brought,  though  not  in  that  place, 
to  embrace  the  Savior. 

1  Thus  it  really  appears  to  me,  that  I  have  derived  from 
emulation  several  important  advantages,  which  without  it, 
I  should  in  all  probability  never  have  enjoyed. 

"  In  conclusion,  therefore,  I  must  be  at  the  greatest  re- 
move from  thinking  it  possible,  that  this  fundamental  prin- 
ciple of  our  nature  is  evil  and  only  evil  continually." 

Those  who  were  intimate  with  my  brother,  will  recog- 
nize his  image  at  once  in  the  above  extracts,  and  to  such 
I  need  make  no  comment,  and  no  apology.  But  to  those 
who  knew  him  not,  I  feel  bound,  in  justice  to  his  charac- 
ter, to  say,  that  the  aspect  of  egotism  here,  for  which  he 
apologises,  was  the  offspring  of  a  far  different  principle — 
an  enthusiasm  in  moral  science,  which  would  prompt  him 
at  any  time,  to  subject  his  own  character,  his  own  heart 
even,  to  the  anatomist.  In  the  voluntary  and  almost  too 
thorough  discharge  of  the  self-denying  office,  he  has  here 
preferred  a  charge  against  himself,  of  which  I  presume  he 
would  never  have  been  thought  guilty,  viz.  that  of  'sending 
a  false  excuse  to  his  teacher.'  The  like  plain  dealing 
with  himself,  is  elsewhere  to  be  met  with  in  his  writings  : 
and  were  it  not  that  this  is  the  scripture  manner  of  giving 
biographical  sketches,  I  might  be  more  tempted  to  draw 
the  pen  over  such  passages,  pleading  in  my  justification 
the  old  and  good  natured  adage,  Nil  de  mortuis  nisi  bonum. 
But  were  his  spirit  to  witness  the  obliteration,  would  it  not 
rebuke  the  presumption  of  thus  marring  the  truth  of  the 
picture,  and  preferring  the  authority  of  a.  heathen  adage  to 
the  inspired  example  of  sacred  history  ?  I  shall  then  let 
such  passages  stand,  and  shall  endeavor  to  aim  at  the  like 
honesty  in  what  I  adduce  from  other  sources.  Man  must 
be  presented  as  he  is,  if  we  are  to  instruct  from  real  life, 
instead  of  amusing  the  reader  with  fiction. 

The  conservative  influence  of  emulation,  was  by  no 
means  peculiar  to  my  brother.  Were  it  meet,  I  could 
name  a  very  distinguished  scholar  at  Y ale,  and  who  is  now 
a  no  less  distinguished  preacher  in  one  of  our  cities,  who 
declared,  in  my  hearing,  more  than  twenty  years  ago,  that 
nothing  but  his  ambition  kept  him  back  from  absolute 
profligacy  and   ruin,  while  in  college.     I  could  mention 


32  SCHOLARSHIP. CONVERSION. 

many  other  instances,  in  which  I  have  no  doubt  of  the 
same  salutary  effect.  This  effect  is  too  commonly  over- 
looked in  the  discussion  ;  and  may  serve  at  least  to  console 
us  under  the  serious  moral  evils  which  are  often  found,  in 
fact,  as  attendants  on  literary  as  well  as  political. competi- 
tion. Comparatively  few  emulous  spirits,  I  fear,  are 
found  possessed  of  such  magnanimity  as  to  love  a  rival  in 
proportion  as  his  excellent  qualities  enforce  their  respect. 
Still  it  is  clear  that  Paul  would  fain  rouse  us  to  a  holy 
emulation  ;  and  it  is  our  own  fault  here,  as  in  every  thing 
else,  if  our  emotions  are  not  holy. 

While  in  college,  my  brother  suffered  much  from  sick- 
ness. Indeed,  he  was  always  an  invalid.  He  also  kept 
school  some  portion  of  the  time,  as  in  Holies,  in  the  winter 
of  179b-7.  Still  his  scholarship  was  respectable,  as  is 
indicated  by  the  part  assigned  him  on  taking  his  first  de- 
gree, viz.  a  forensic  disputation,  in  which  he  is  said  to 
have  acquitted  himself  well. 

In  reference  to  the  terms  of  profound  respect  in  which 
he  speaks  of  the  performances  of  some  of  his  classmates, 
it  may  afford  some  explanation  to  state,  that  his  class  was 
distinguished  by  the  names  of  such  men  as  Story  and 
Channing. 

But  a  still  more  important  topic  than  merely  that  of  the 
developement  and  cultivation  of  his  intellectual  powers, 
now  claims  our  attention.  It  was  during  the  third  year 
of  his  college  course,  that  he  hopefully  passed  from  death 
to  life.  For  several  years,  there  had  prevailed,  in  his  native 
place,  an  uncommon  degree  of  attention  to  the  "  great 
salvation,"  and  many,  in  gradual  succession,  had  been 
added  to  the  church.  Here  he  had  spent  his  vacations, 
enjoying  not  only  the  preaching,  but  the  familiar  society 
of  his  brother-in-law,  Mr.  S,,  and,  as  will  be  seen  by  sub- 
sequent notices  from  his  pen,  it  was  to  these  means  chiefly, 
under  God,  that  he  attributed  his  conversion  from  sin. 
When  he  offered  himself  as  a  candidate  for  the  commun- 
ion of  the  church,  he  presented  a  written  statement  of  his 
religious  views  and  feelings,  for  the  satisfaction  of  the 
brethren.  Such  was  then  the  custom  in  that  church,  and 
such  it  continued  till  within  a  few  years.  These  written 
statements  were  read  before  the  whole  congregation  at  the 
close  of  the  services  on  the  Sabbath,  two  or  three  weeks 
before  the  season  of  communion,  at  which  the  candidate 


PROFESSION    OF    RELIGION. 


33 


was  to  present  himself  for  admission  to  the  church,  provi- 
ded no  objection  should  be  brought  against  him.  The 
public  reading  of  these  "  relations  of  experience"  as  they 
were  called,  was  often  immensely  solemn,  and  not  unfre- 
quentlv  proved  the  occasion  of  an  effectual  impression  on 
the  minds  of  some  who  had  before  remained  obdurate. 
What  added  much  to  the  effect  on  some  minds,  was  the 
circumstance,  that  during  the  reading  by  the  pastor,  in  the 
pulpit,  these  candidates  stood  before  the  assembly  in  the 
broad  aisle,  thus  appearing  as  though  they  came  out  from 
the  world  to  be  separate,  as  at  the  day  of  judgment,  while 
there  was  openly  declared  what  God  had  done  for  their 
souls.  Many  a  time  did  this  prove  too  much  to  be  resisted 
by  the  stout  heart  of  an  unbelieving  husband,  or  wife,  or 
parent,  or  gay  companion. —  Still  there  are,  doubtless,  evils 
to  be  apprehended  from  such  a  custom  ;  and  it  is  not  my 
object  to  complain  of  its  discontinuance. 

The  following  is  the  statement  presented  by  my  brother, 
as  found  in  the  archives  of  the  church.  I  give  it  simply 
as  containing  an  authentic  and  solemn  declaration  of  the 
religious  state  of  his  mind  at  that  momentous  period,  and 
not  for  any  special  excellence  in  the  execution. 

TO    THE    CHURCH    OF    CHRIST    IN    HOLLES. 

The  great  Jehovah,  who  is  ever  calling  to  the  sons  of 
men,  sometimes  in  the  thunder  of  his  providence,  and 
sometimes  in  a  still,  small  voice,  to  repent,  return  and  live, 
has  frequently  called  my  attention  to  religion.  But  with 
shame  I  acknowledge,  that  I  have  resisted  conviction,  and 
in  my  heart  said  to  the  heavenly  messenger,  go  thy  way 
for  this  time,  at  a  more  convenient  season  I  will  call  for 
thee.  Many  excuses  did  I  frame  to  justify  my  neglect  of 
religion.  Sometimes  I  have  thought  that,  as  I  did  not 
allow  myself  in  the  practice  of  any  known  vice,  as  my 
moral  character  was  in  a  degree  unspotted,  that  I  had 
done  nothing  for  which  I  could  expect  eternal  misery  ; 
not  considering  that  my  heart  was  carnal,  that  it  was  at 
enmity  against  God,  that  my  thoughts  were  evil  continu- 
ally. Sometimes  I  considered  that  an  attention  to  religion 
would  infringe  on  my  college  exercises  ;  and  thus  neg- 
lected the  one  thing  needful,  for  things  infinitely  less  val- 
uable.    At  other  times,  I  cherished  the  idea  that  vouth 


34  RELIGIOUS    EXPERIENCE. 

was  the  spring  of  life,  the  season  of  gaiety  ;  and  why 
should  I  be  sorrowful  ?  that  religion  would  deprive  me  of 
amusements,  which  I  could  not  bear  to  relinquish  ; — thus 
exposing  myself  to  eternal  torments  for  a  momentary  grat- 
ification, unworthy  of  the  name  of  happiness.  Resting  on 
pretences  like  these,  such  foolish,  such  impious  pretences, 
I  have  lived  for  so  many  years,  casting  off  fear,  restraining 
prayer,  without  any  grounds  for  hope,  without  God  in  the 
world;  until  of  late,  I  trust,  God,  in  infinite  mercy,  has 
been  pleased  to  give  me  a  view  of  the  depravity  of  my 
heart,  of  my  own  insufficiency,  of  the  fulness  of  Christ,  of 
the  beauty,  consistency,  and  harmony  of  gospel  doctrines, 
especially  regeneration,  the  necessity  of  faith  in  Christ, 
the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  election ;  and  I  hope 
and  trust  that  I  have  in  some  degree  tasted  the  trans- 
cendant  beauties  of  religion,  and  seen  that  the  Lord  is 
good.  Desirous  to  obey  all  the  commands  of  Christ,  and 
to  comply  with  his  institutions,  I  humbly  present  myself  to 
join  in  full  communion  with  this  church,  asking  an  inter- 
est in  your  addresses  at  the  throne  of  grace  for  me,  as  the 
least  of  all  saints,  that,  by  divine  assistance,  I  may  exhibit 
to  the  world,  and  to  my  own  conscience,  a  character, 
worthy  of  the  honorable,  the  dignified  name  of  Christian. 

Joseph  Emerson. 

Holies,  August  5,  1797. 

Such  are  the  views  with  which  he  publicly  took  the 
vows  of  God  upon  himself,  in  a  good  profession,  which  he 
continued  ever  afterwards  to  witness  before  men.  Had 
not  this  document  been  designed  for  a  promiscuous  assem- 
bly, we  may  well  suppose  it  would  have  been  more  minute 
and  specific  in  some  points  respecting  his  moral  and  reli- 
gious history.  In  one  particular,  I  am  able,  from  authentic 
information,  to  supply  the  defect,  by  mentioning  the  chief 
thing  to  which  he  alludes.  The  particular  is  that  in 
which  he  speaks  of  his  previous  apprehension,  'that  reli- 
gion would  deprive  him  of  amusements  which  he  could  not 
bear  to  relinquish.'  Dancing  was  the  amusement  which 
he  felt  and  plead  that  he  could  not  then  relinquish  for  the 
sobriety  of  christian  life.  This  "  vain  recreation,"  as  the 
church  covenant  denominated  it,  had  been  but  too  com- 
mon and  too  reputable  among  the  youth  of  the  first  fami- 
lies in  the  place.     He  had  practiced  and  enjoyed  it  much  ; 


INFLUENCE    OP    DANCING.  35 

and  now  urged  the  plea,  with  those  who  pressed  him  to 
the  duty  of  repentance,  that  he  needed  the  relaxation  and 
exercise  which  were  thus  afforded.  It  was  the  charm 
which  held  his  soul  for  a  while  in  bondage.  When  once 
broken,  and  the  captive  free,  his  frank  avowal,  as  seen 
above,  exhibits  clearly  the  light  in  which  his  quickened 
conscience  regarded  the  practice.  And  so  doubtless  does 
every  conscience  regard  it  in  the  like  circumstances. 
Plead  for  the  innocence  of  this  amusement  as  we  may,  it 
still  remains  an  unquestionable  fact,  that  it  has  a  powerful 
tendency  to  keep  the  heart  from  God.  Of  course  it  is 
morally  wrong,  in  the  shape  in  which  it  is  actually  prac- 
ticed ;  and  is  fraught  with  the  most  deadly  influence,  as 
respects  the  practice  of  vital  godliness  among  the  profes- 
sors of  religion,  and  the  salvation  of  such  as  are  still  impen- 
itent. 

The  view  which  the  church  took  of  that  prevalent 
practice,  as  expressed  in  the  revision  of  their  covenant,  (1 
believe  about  that  period,)  together  with  the  great  revivals 
which  ensued,  had  a  powerful  influence  in  speedily  ren- 
dering the  amusement  disreputable  and  obsolete  in  the 
best  circles.  The  effects  of  their  decided  course  in  doing 
away  this  enchanting  temptation,  have  doubtless  been  the 
occasion  of  gratitude  in  the  hearts  of  many  who  have 
since  grown  up  in  ignorance  of  the  art,  and  unincumbered 
with  its  impediment  to  the  great  object  of  our  existence. 
Some,  however,  murmured,  at  least  for  a  while. 

On  the  return  of  my  brother  to  college,  as  appears  from 
the  following  letters,  he  was  brought  low  by  sickness.  I 
have  heard  him  speak  of  one  or  two  periods  in  his  early 
life  in  which  he  was  so  reduced  as  to  be  unable  to  turn 
himself  in  bed,  and  his  life  was  nearly  despaired  of:  per- 
haps this  was  one.  Our  family,  too,  were  at  that  time  in 
deep  affliction,  from  the  inroads  of  mortal  disease. 

TO    MRS.    SMITH. 

Cambridge,  Sept.  2-1,  1797. 

Afflicted  Ama, — Most  cordially,  my  sister,  would  I 
let  fall  a  tear  of  sympathy  with  you,  with  all  my  bereaved 
friends  ;  but  tears  are  not  mine  ;  my  eyes  have  long  been 
dry,  and   grief  will   not  moisten  them.     Your   wounded 


36  LETTERS    TO    HIS    SISTERS. 

bosom  bleeds  afresh.  But  a  few  days  have  deprived  you 
of  two  of  the  dearest,  the  choicest  blessings  of  life.  Your 
child,  your  only  child  is  not.  Our  brother,  the  boy  of 
your  tender,  your  affectionate  nursing,  whom  you  have  so 
often  warmed  in  your  bosom,  and  lulled  to  sweet  repose, 
has  likewise  taken  his  flight  to  that  land  whence  no  trav- 
eller returns.  Without  doubt,  these  melancholy  events 
have  pierced  your  soul  with  pangs  more  poignant  than  I 
can  feel,  or  perhaps  conceive.  I  can  imagine  you,  sitting 
in  solitude,  your  heart  overflowing  with  sad  reflection, 
calling  to  mind  the  many  hours  of  anxiety  spent  in  foster- 
ing your  brother  and  your  child,  and  the  pleasing  sensa- 
tions excited  by  a  smile,  or  an  articulate  sound;  and  re- 
collecting the  anticipation  of  a  thousand  joys  to  be  derived 
from  their  future  society  and  welfare.  Such  consoling 
visions  have  now  vanished  ;  and  I  fear  your  grief  is  almost 
insupportable.  Need  I  tell  you  where  to  apply  for  com- 
fort 1  Surely  the  God  of  mercy  will  pity  the  broken- 
hearted daughters  of  affliction,  who  trust  in  him.  Religion 
offers  balm  and  oil  for  every  wound.  Adversity  is  a  prof- 
itable school  to  the  wise ;  for  afflictions  spring  not  from 
the  dust,  neither  do  troubles  grow  out  of  the  ground.  Dr. 
Young,  notwithstanding  all  his  lamentations,  finally 
counted  it  among  the  greatest  blessings  of  heaven,  that  his 
heart  had  bled.  I  hope  you  have  already  had  cause  to 
say,  that  it  is  good  for  you  that  you  have  been  afflicted. 

"  Our  dying  friends 
Are  angels  sent  on  errands  full  of  love  ; 
For  us  they  languish,  and  for  us  they  die  : 
And  shall  they  languish,  shall  they  die  in  vain  V 

My  disorder  has  almost,  entirely  left  me.  I  have  plenty 
of  appetite,  begin  to  recover  my  flesh,  am  strong  enough 
to  step  with  ease  from  the  floor  into  a  chair,  sit  up  almost 
the  whole  day,  presume  I  could  walk  thirty  rods,  and 
think  myself  rapidly  recovering.  Expect  to  see  Holies  in 
about  three  weeks. 

To  another  sister,  now  Mrs.  S.  Chapin,  he  thus  writes 
the  next  day. 

"  What  day.  what  hour,  but  knocks  at  human  hearts, 
To  wake  the  soul  to  sense  of  future  scenes  ?" 

O  my  sister,  it  is  a  great,  a  difficult  thing,  in  all  circum- 
stances, to  feel  as  we  ought.    Resignation  is  a  hard  lesson 


DEATH    OF    A    BROTHER.  37 

to  be  learnt.  Verily  we  have  lost  a  brother.  The  beauty 
of  our  family  is  gone.  No  more  will  his  prattle  delight  us. 
no  more  will  that  fair  countenance  gladden  our  hearts, 
We  mourn  ;  we  ought  to  mourn.  Humanity  demands, 
and  nature  cannot  withhold  a  sigh.  But  we  have  reason 
to  sing  of  mercy  as  well  as  judgment.  While  we  mourn 
the  loss  of  one  brother,  let  us  rejoice  that  the  other,  for 
many  days  equally  dangerous,  still  survives.  Have  not 
you  and  I  been  brought  almost  to  the  brink  of  the  grave? 
And  who  hath  raised  us  to  our  present  comfortable  state  ? 
Bless  the  Lord,  O  our  souls ! 

These  children  died  of  dysentary,  then  prevalent  ifl  the 
neighborhood.  The  son  of  his  doubly  afflicted  sister,  was 
but  a  year  or  two  old.  The  other  deceased  child,  her 
brother  Samuel,  had  also  been  to  her  as  a  son  ;  for  from 
his  birth,  my  mother  saw  not  a  well  hour,  and  he  had  con- 
sequently been  consigned  to  the  special  care  of  this  sister. 
The  other  brother,  W.,  who  had  been  very  sick,  but  was 
recovering,  was  a  twin  to  the  one  who  died.  These  facts 
will  explain  the  peculiar  language  in  the  above  letter. 

Shall  I  here  be  indulged  in  a  brief  reminiscence  of  that 
day,  to  me  so  sad,  yet  so  instructive?  Though  myself  but 
a  child  at  that  time  of  desolating  disease,  yet  the  scene 
lives  in  my  memory  as  one  of  yesterday.  I  beheld  these 
twin  brothers,  both  sickening  on  the  same  bed  with 
alarming  disease.  At  an  early  stage,  W.  was  regarded  as 
in  the  greatest  danger,  and  his  life  began  to  be  despaired 
of.  At  that  crisis,  the  yearnings  of  my  heart  were  beyond 
description.  I  seem,  even  now,  to  see  the  very  spot  in 
the  pleasant  pasture,  where  I  walked  mournfully  by  my- 
self, as  the  sun  was  setting,  and  my  spirit  oppressed  with 
the  apprehension,  that  this  brother,  who  now  seemed  quite 
the  dearest  to  me,  would  die  before  another  morning.  My 
heart  was  continually  exclaiming,  "  if  one  of  them  must 
die,  O  that  it  might  be  S. ! — he  is  not  half  so  dear  !" — 
And  so  indeed  it  came  to  pass.  I  had  my  childish  pref- 
erence in  the  dire  alternative.  For  within  three  days,  the 
balance  turned.  W.  became  convalescent ;  and  S.,  feebly 
waving  to  and  fro  his  emaciated  hand,  was  heard,  at  in- 
tervals, uttering  those  shrill,  hollow,  dying  moans,  that 
seem  still  to  pierce  my  soul. — The  changed  scene  had 
changed  my  preference.  "O  that  my  dear  S.  now 
4 


33  RELIGIOUS    STATE    OF 

might  live  ;  and  let  W.,  or  let  myself  die  in  his  stead." 
Such  were  my  real  feelings  in  that  early  trial  of  an  un- 
taught heart. — Should  some  of  ray  readers  derive  a  portion 
of  the  benefit  which  the  recollection  of  that  scene  has 
afforded  me,  my  object  will  be  gained,  in  a  digression  so 
personal.  I  hope  I  have  gratefully  experienced  its  aid,  in 
curing  me  forever  of  such  baseless  and  extravagant  pref- 
erences for  departing  good.  It  has  also  led  me  more 
highly  to  estimate  continued  blessings,  by  forestalling  the 
view  of  their  departure. 

We  return  to  the  subject  of  this  memoir.  The  follow- 
ing letter  is  to  his  brother  Smith,  already  named.  It  will 
be  read  with  special  interest  by  such  as  are  desirous  of 
knowing  the  religious  history  of  Cambridge  College  at  an 
important  period  in  its  modern  progress. 

Cambridge,  March  17, 1798. 

Respected  Brother, — I  returned  to  college  this  term 
with  a  determination  to  cast  off  the  fear  of  a  fellow  worm, 
and  to  shew  that  I  am  not  ashamed  of  our  common  cause. 
Upon  such  subjects,  however,  a  degree  of  prudence  is  to  be 
used.  Nothing  tends  more  to  disgust,  than  an  ostenta- 
tious parade  of  religion.  But  I  am  persuaded  men  are 
much  more  apt  to  neglect  favorable  opportunities  for  reli- 
gious conversation,  than  to  introduce  such  topics  unsea- 
sonably. Every  friend  to  the  cause  of  Immanuel,  ought, 
with  great  assiduity,  to  strive  to  improve  every  opportunity 
of  speaking  well  of  his  glorious  Lord  and  Master.  Re- 
ligion, pure,  vital,  undented  religion,  we  have  reason  to 
fear,  is  growing  more  and  more  unfashionable.  This  ap- 
pears to  be  the  triumphant  opinion  of  many,  the  language 
of  whose  conduct  is,  "  let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow 
we  die."  They  sometimes  profess  to  believe  the  bible, 
and  tell  of  the  excellencies  of  Christianity  ;  make  great 
professions  of  philanthropy,  and  pretend  to  rejoice  at  the 
great  liberality  of  sentiment  which  appears  so  prevalent. 
Rather  than  harbor  a  thought,  that  the  doctrines  preached 
by  Calvin  and  his  followers  can  be  possible,  they  would 
not  only  relinquish  the  everlasting  basis  of  the  christian 
hope,  but  even  abandon  themselves  to  all  the  horrors  of 
atheism.     Believe  Ilopkinsianism !     Sooner  than  be  guilty 


CAMBRIDGE    COLLEGE.  39 

of  an  absurdity  so  glaring,  they  would  point  to  the  grave, 
and  exclaim,  "  the  place  of  eternal  rest  !  " 

But,  my  beloved  brother,  these  things  ought  not  to 
move  the  friends  to  those  doctrines  which  so  often  flowed 
from  the  lips  of  the  Lamb  of  God,  and  from  the  lips  of  holy 
men  who  spake  as  they  were  moved.  Were  all  the  so- 
phistical arguments  in  the  whole  hemisphere  of  learned 
error,  to  be  collected,  and  their  essence  extracted,  it  would 
never  form  a  single  truth.  Let  us  then  take  the  bible  for 
the  man  of  our  counsel,  search  it  with  indefatigable  perse- 
verance, and  fervently  pray  to  the  Father  of  lights  to  pro- 
tect us  from  error,  and  smile  with  benignity  on  our  at- 
tempts to  know  the  truth. 

You  must  not  expect  to  find  in  my  letter  the  regularity 
of  a  Hopkinsian  sermon.  I  write  my  thoughts  as  they 
rise.  I  was  telling  you,  that  I  resolved  not  to  be  ashamed 
to  confess  even  to  the  most  hardened  infidelity  itself,  that 
Jesus  was,  and  is,  and  ever  will  continue  to  be,  the  Christ, 
etc.  It  gives  me  no  small  degree  of  pleasure  to  find,  that 
some  of  my  class  profess  their  belief  in  the  necessity  of 
regeneration.  With  some  of  these,  I  have  had  considera- 
ble conversation,  and  some  have  been  led  to  think,  from 
some  of  my  observations,  that  between  me  and  a  Hopkin- 
sian, the  difference  is  small.  Such  an  idea  circulates 
among  I  know  not  how  many.  Some  would  rather  see 
me  an  atheist ;  others  affect  to  pity  my  credulity ;  some 
ridicule  my  superstition,  while  they  think  it  no  matter 
what  a  person  believes,  provided  he  conducts  with  a  toler- 
able degree  of  propriety. 

My  health  is  such  that  I  study  very  little.  Cease  not 
to  pray  for  your  affectionate  brother, 

J.  Emerson. 

In  colleges,  and  other  communities,  revolutions  in  re- 
ligious opinion  are  not  the  work  of  a  day.  No  changes 
among  men  are  so  important  in  their  results,  both  for  this 
life  and  the  future.  The  causes,  then,  and  the  progress 
of  such  changes,  are  of  supreme  interest  to  the  philoso- 
pher, the  christian,  and  the  philanthropist.  In  this  view, 
the  above  letter  possesses  a  special  interest,  as  already  in- 
timated. It  gives  us  a  simple  view  of  the  religious  feel- 
ings and  antipathies  then  predominant  within  the  walls  of 


40 


ITS    CAUSES    AND    EFFECTS. 


the  college,  at  least  among  the  undergraduates.  This 
account,  too,  we  have,  not  from  an  enemy  to  the  institu- 
tion, who  might  be  disposed  to  prophecy  evil,  and  to  ex- 
aggerate its  indications,  but  from  one  of  its  own  sons,  then 
in  its  bosom,  and  who  hoped  better  things,  and  was  ear- 
nestly engaged  to  effect  better  things.  It  seems  that  then 
there  existed  that  sickly  sentimentality  which  is  sometimes 
heard  uttering  the  plaintive  moan  of  "  charity  "  in  behalf 
of  error,  and  even  of  infidelity,  while  at  the  same  time  it 
is  full  of  asperity  towards  all  who  have  any  zeal  for  godli- 
ness. I  know  not  a  more  ill-boding  prognostic  than  this, 
to  be  found  in  any  seminary  or  any  community.  It  is  not 
charity  itself,  (that  holy  love  which  Paul  commends,)  but 
is  rather  a  cloak,  but  ill  assumed,  to  hide  the  want  of  this 
cardinal  grace. 

But  though  these  indications  of  evil  were  thus  early  vis- 
ible among  the  students,  now  perhaps  equally  corrupted  in 
habits  by  the  vices  of  the  neighboring  metropolis  ;  it  was 
not  till  some  years  after,  that  the  college  itself  was  com- 
pletely revolutionized  in  its  officers  and  guardians.  Time 
was  requisite  for  the  leaven  to  spread,  and  to  infect  the 
greater  fountains  of  influence  and  collegiate  control.  Time 
was  requisite  for  a  somewhat  sounder  generation,  then 
asleep  in  those  seats  of  influence,  to  pass  away,  and  their 
places  to  be  filled  by  men  whose  religious  feelings  and 
principles  were  forming  under  the  moral  influences  at  that 
time  predominant  in  this  ancient  seat  of  learning. 

A  few  words  more  may  be  requisite,  however,  in  this 
brief  sketch  of  one  of  the  most  important  events  that  de- 
mand our  notice  in  connection  with  the  subject  of  this 
memoir.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  religious  prin- 
ciples of  those  students  who  were  imbibing  a  prejudice 
against  Calvinism,  at  once  became  fixed  and  definite  in 
their  final  shape,  in  opposition  to  the  generally  received 
doctrines  of  the  gospel.  All  which  the  candid  observer 
would  remark  on  this  stage  of  the  progress,  is  the  exis- 
tence of  a  great  and  undeniable  influence,  existing  in  the 
current  of  college  feeling,  to  prejudice  the  forming  mind 
against  sound  doctrine.  The  extent  and  power  of  this  in- 
fluence, operating  in  connection  with  other  causes,  is  now 
to  be  traced  in  well  known  events  that  have  since  ensued. 
Within  the  more  immediate  influence  of  that  college,  dis- 
cord   has   been  sown   in   what  had  long  been  the  most 


ITS    CAUSES    AND    EFFECTS.  41 

peaceful  religious  communities.  Many  churches  have 
been  rent  in  sunder  :  others  have  been  perverted,  or  par- 
alyzed, as  to  christian  life  and  effort.  And  large  funds 
have  been  diverted  from  the  intention  of  the  donors, 
(whether  righteously  or  not,  I  will  not  here  stop  to  in- 
quire.) Vast,  already,  has  been  the  amount  of  real  suffer- 
ing in  pious  hearts,  and  of  moral  evils  in  the  community, 
from  these  apparently  small  beginnings.  When  or  where 
the  evil  will  end,  is  left  with  Him  who  can  say  to  its  proud 
waves,  hitherto  shall  ye  come,  and  no  fart  fur. 

I  have  just  said,  that  this  has  sprung  from  apparently 
small  beginnings.  But  if  we  trace  back  the  stream  of 
moral  causes,  we  shall  perhaps  find  the  torrent  collecting 
from  a  much  more  expanded  surface.  For,  whence  came 
this  corruption  within  the  walls  of  college  ?  Surely  the 
puritans  did  not  infuse  it.  Nor  are  we  to  ascribe  it  all  to 
the  debauchery  and  the  laxity  in  doctrines  then  prevalent 
in  the  metropolis,  however  great  their  influence.  In  ad- 
dition to  these,  I  have  time  barely  to  refer  to  two  great 
sources  of  corruption,  which  affected  the  country  at  large. 
The  first  was  the  immoral  influence  of  our  revolutionary 
war.  The  second,  and  by  far  the  most  threatening,  was 
the  French  philosophy,  coming  as  it  did  in  quick  succession 
to  the  first,  and  connected  with  it.  This  philosophy  had 
taken  early  root,  and  was  widely  spread  among  the  youth 
of  our  land.  As  their  fathers  had  r<?apt  laurels  on  the 
field  of  strife  against  political  domination,  so  these  sons 
fancied  an  equal  harvest  of  glory  in  ridding  the  world  of 
the  dominion  of  "  religious  prejudice.''  The  mind  be- 
came frantic  for  revolution.  This  was  the  order  of  the 
day.  But  precisely  what  to  attempt,  they  knew  not.  Pe- 
culiarly in  our.  seminaries,  was  this  spirit  manifest.  Nor 
was  it  confined  to  Harvard.  In  Yale  college,  for  instance, 
at  the  time  Dr.  Dwight  became  its  President,  (1795,)  it  was 
perhaps  even  more  prevalent  than  at  Cambridge.  Happy 
beyond  conception  for  our  country,  that  such  a  man  as  he 
was  found  at  such  a  time,  and  for  such  a  place — a  man  no 
less  distinguished  for  his  thorough  orthodoxy,  than  for  his 
unrivalled  capacities  for  such  a  station  and  such  a  crisis. 
In  that  vast  source  of  influence,  the  tide  was  stemmed — 
was  turned.*     Not  so  in   Cambridge.     Though   held  in 

*  See  Lift  of  Duigld,  by  his  brother. 

4* 


4*2  YALE  COLLEGE, 

some  feeble  check  for  years,  till  this  spirit  had  become 
modified  in  form,  perhaps  more  decent  in  appearance,  cer- 
tainly more  definite  and  fatal  in  its  aim,  it  at  length  as- 
sumed the  very  name  of  religion — and  the  revolution  in 
this  college,  soon  became  complete.  These  two  colleges 
were  then  the  two  eyes  of  New-England ;  and  another 
Dwight  might  have  saved  this  beloved  land  from  all  it  has 
since  suffered,  and  has  now  to  dread  from  religious  defec- 
tion. But,  ah,  what  would  now  have  been  our  moral  and 
religious  condition,  if  a  kind  Providence  had  not  even 
raised  up  that  one  as  a  deliverer  to  his  people! 

I  have  chosen  to  make  the  above  remarks  at  once.  It 
will  preclude  the  necessity  of  comment  on  any  further  re- 
marks that  may  occur,  from  the  pen  of  my  brother,  on  the 
same  general  topic. 

I  well  know  that  there  are  men,  whom  I  highly  respect, 
and  some  of  them  my  particular  friends,  who  doubtless 
hold  very  different  views  from  these,  in  respect  to  the 
nature  of  these  results  ;  and  who  believe  that,  on  the  con- 
trary, a  great  improvement  has  been  effected  in  religious 
doctrine — an  improvement  worth  all  the  trouble  and  all 
the  anguish  of  feeling  it  has  occasioned.  Still,  such  men, 
should  they  see  these  pages,  will  doubtless  very  freely 
accord  to  me  the  privilege  themselves  so  highly  prize — 
that  of  a  free  expression  of  views  on  a  topic  so  important, 
when  it  comes  directly  in  our  way.  Nor  do  I  doubt  that 
every  reflecting  mind  will,  at  all  events,  agree  with  me, 
in  regarding  the  following  as  an  extremely  interesting  and 
practical  question,  in  moral  causes,  as  connected  with 
education  ;  viz.  How  is  it,  that  the  sphere  of  influence 
filled  by  Yale  College,  has  become  so  different  from  that 
of  Harvard  University? — a  difference  that  bids  fair  to 
widen  still  more,  through  the  infidelity  now  rising  in  the 
latter  region !  And  especially,  in  view  of  what  is  now- 
taking  place  in  our  metropolis,  will  they  not  unite  in  the 
ejaculation — Lord,  save  us,  or  we  perish  I 


CHAPTER    III. 

FROM     HIS     GRADUATION     TO     HIS     SETTLEMENT     IN     THE 
MINISTRY,    1798—1803. 

Teaches  an  academy  in  Framingham — Honest  frankness 
of  his  character — Studies  divinity  with  Dr.  Emmons — 
Poetry — On  writing  prayers — Manner  of  life  at  Frank- 
lin— Resides  at  Cambridge — Corresponds  with  his  for- 
mer  pupils — On  decrees,  self  determining  power  ,  chirog- 
raphy,  education — School-teaching  as  connected  with  the 
pastoral  office — Returns  to  Franklin — Remarks  on 
Darwin,  Young,  the  study  and  reading  of  poetry  and 
prose — Begins  to  preach,  and  is  appointed  tutor — Ef- 
forts to  ascertain  his  own  faults — Letter  from  J.  Mctcalf 
— Didactic  and  social  traits  of  character — On  best 
habits  in  cdl  things — Poetry  on  Mrs.  Steele — Death  of 
his  mother — Eventful  correspondence — Death  of  other 
relatives — Preaching — Journal — Habits  of  study — 
Resolution  and  plan  for  studying  the  Bible — Projects, 
resolutions ,  and  expectations — Call  to  settle  at  Beverly 
— Admiration  of  Baxter — Answer  to  his  call — Forma- 
tion of  the  church  in  B. — Feelings  in  view  of  his  ap- 
proaching ordination. 

About  the  time  of  his  leaving  college,  my  brother  took 
charge  of  the  academy  at  Framingham,  where  we  find 
him  at  the  date  of  the  following  letter. 

Framingliam,  Dec.  7,  1798. 

Sister  Ama, — I  hope  you  will  not  be  very  much  dis- 
appointed that  you  see  this  letter  instead  of  your  brother. 
Much  less  will  your  husband  regret  my  determination. 
However,  I  believe  I  shall  not  progress  very  much  in 
Hopkinsianism.     It  is  not  absolutely  certain   that  I  shall 


44  AT    FRAMINGHAM. 

spend  the  vacation  with  Mr.  Emmons,  as  I  have  said 
nothing  to  him  concerning  the  matter.  1  shall  probably 
see  Franklin  to-morrow.  I  should  certainly  come  to  Hol- 
ies this  winter,  could  I  be  sure  of  seeing  Hannah,  [then 
married  to  Rev.  N.  Hall  of  Granville,  N.  Y.,  and  since 
dead.]  It  seems  almost  an  age  since  I  saw  her.  I  fear 
I  shall  not  see  her  for  seven  long  months.  Not  a  syllable 
have  I  heard  from  Granville  since  last  summer.  I  almost 
regret,  sometimes,  that  I  did  not  try  to  visit  her.  I  do  not 
know  that  my  affection  for  her  is  stronger  than  it  is  for  any 
other  person,  but  it  seems  sometimes  as  if  1  liked  her  bet- 
ter than  every  body  else.  Surely  I  never  knew  before 
how  much  I  esteemed  her.  You  now  seem  almost  like 
an  only  sister. 

My  school  has  lately  been  small.  My  task  has  been 
easy,  and  my  health  was  never  better  than  it  is  at  present. 

He  spent  about  a  year  at  Framingham  :  where,  if  I 
may  judge  from  letters  that  now  lie  before  me,  he  formed 
many  agreeable  acquaintances,  and  passed  his  time  very 
pleasantly.  Most  of  his  letters,  at  this  period,  are  written 
with  much  sprightliness,  and  warmth  of  affection,  but  bear 
less  of  the  impress  of  fervent  piety  than  those  of  some 
other  periods.  Occasionally  they  are  tinged  with  a  pen- 
siveness,  not  uncommon  to  a  sensitive  heart  at  that  period 
of  life,  and  soon  after  leaving  the  university.  The  follow- 
ing brief  extract  may  serve  as  a  specimen. 

Framing, ham,  July  9,  1779. 

The  toils  of  the  day  are  past.  Toils  1 — no,  they 
are  not  toils,  they  are  pleasures.  My  days  are  happy, 
though  they  seem  "swifter  than  a  weaver's  shuttle."  The 
moon  is  hastening  to  quench  her  lamp  in  the  waves  of  the 
Pacific.  The  lamp  of  this  mortal  life  is  hastening  to  be 
extinguished  in  the  ocean  of  eternity.  All,  all  is  silent  as 
the  house  of  death.  O  Harvard  !  thy  joys  rise  fresh  to  my 
soul.  Sweet  are  the  joys  of  Harvard  ;  but  they  are  past. 
Sweeter  are  the  joys  of  Framingham;  but  they  are  past, 
or  hastening  to  be  gone.  Still  sweeter  are  thejoys  of  fu- 
turity, which  feed  my  rapturous  hopes.  "  He  knows  not 
how  to  fear,  who  dares  to  die."  Many  times  have  I 
traversed  the  plains  of  Cambridge,  when   darkness  and 


AT    FRANKLIN.  45 

silence  were  my  sole,  my  pensive  companions.     These 
words  were  my  never-failing  solace  : 

"  Night,  sable  goddess,  from  her  ebon  throne, 
In  rayless  majesty  now  stretches  forth 
Her  leaden  sceptre  o'er  a  slumbering'  world. 
Silence,  how  dead  !  and  darkness  how  profound  I" 

The  following  sentences  are  too  full  of  weighty  truth, 
and  too  strongly  show  one  of  the  most  prominent  traits  of 
the  writer,  to  be  omitted  here.  "  Flattery  I  detest.  It  is 
the  child  of  nonsense,  or  of  vice,  or  of  both.  He  who  flat- 
ters a  lady,  at  the  same  time  implicitly  tells  her  that  he  is 
a  knave,  or  a  fool,  or  that  he  thinks  her  one." 

In  the  genuine  spirit  of  these  remarks,  he  appears  to 
have  conducted  his  social  intercourse  through  life.  I  do 
not  believe  he  ever  intended  to  flatter  any  individual. 
And  yet,  of  all  the  honest  men  I  ever  knew,  he  was  per- 
haps the  most  ready  to  mention  frankly  and  soberly  to  a 
friend,  what  he  supposed  to  be  the  excellencies,  as  well  as 
the  defects,  in  the  character  of  that  friend.  And  this  he 
did  upon  principle,  judging  it  to  be  as  plainly  a  duty  to 
prompt  and  encourage  one  to  the  increase  of  his  good 
qualities,  as  to  admonish  him  of  his  faults.  His  delight, 
too,  in  the  excellences  of  his  friend,  doubtless  often  led 
him  to  an  undue  estimate  of  their  powers  or  their  moral 
qualities  ;  and  from  this  source,  the  undesigned  effect  of 
his  conversations  or  his  letters,  might  not  unfrequently  be 
allied  to  that  of  flip  flatterer  whom  he  abhorred.  Still  his 
manner  was  so  serious,  and  so  ingenuous,  that  in  cases  of 
the  greatest  over-estimate,  he  was  not  likely  to  be  suspect- 
ed of  this  sinister  vice.  And,  as  to  the  effect,  I  suspect 
that,  in  most  cases  of  such  mistake,  while  the  individual 
felt  grateful  for  the  good  opinion,  he  was  left  to  think  that 
his  frank  and  kind-hearted  friend  did  but  imperfectly  un- 
derstand his  case,  and  that  it  would  be  his  wisdom  to 
amend  the  faults  so  lightly  touched  upon,  and  as  speedily 
as  possible  to  attain  to  that  balance  of  positive  excellence 
thus  prematurely  awarded. 

In  July  of  this  year,  he  left  Framingham  for  Franklin, 
where  he  studied  divinity  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Emmons, 
with  some  intermissions,  for  two  years.  This  step  was 
sorely  against  the  will  of  his  father,  and  some  other  friends^ 


46  SCENES    AT 

who  at  that  time  but  imperfectly  understood  the  opinions 
of  Dr.  Emmons,  and  who  were  filled  with  apprehension 
for  the  effects  of  his  rising  influence  among  the  churches. 
Their  estimate  of  him  and  his  doctrines,  was  afterwards 
materially  changed.  Though  reluctant  to  take  a  single 
step  against  the  wishes  of  such  a  parent,  yet  my  brother 
thought  it  his  duty  to  avail  himself  of  the  instruction  of 
this  distinguished  teacher,  who  had  already  guided  many 
in  their  studies  for  the  sacred  profession.  Perhaps,  too, 
he  also  had  a  curiosity  to  learn  more  perfectly  the  new 
doctrine  of  Hopkinsianism,  from  the  fountain  head.  I 
know  not  that  he  ever  regretted  this  step ;  but  have  rea- 
son to  believe  he  always  rejoiced  in  it  as  the  means  of  at- 
taining to  a  higher  degree  of  accuracy  and  precision  of 
thought  and  expression  on  the  great  subjects  of  religion, 
than  he  would  probably  have  attained  elsewhere. 

When  thus  removed,  his  thoughts  naturally  reverted  to 
the  scenes  he  had  so  recently  left.  In  a  letter  to  one  of 
his  former  pupils,  he  thus  writes,  under  date  of  November 
5,  1799  : 

"  Doubtless  you  are  sensible  that  I  left  Framingham 
with  a  degree  of  regret.  I  there  formed  many  very  agree- 
able acquaintances.  I  have  often  been  asked  how  I  liked 
Framingham.  The  substance  of  my  answers  has  been, 
that  I  was  very  happy  in  my  school ;  that  I  was  treated 
with  great  hospitality  and  politeness  ;  that  the  place  con- 
tained a  very  fine  circle  of  young  ladies,  many  of  whose 
minds  were  seasoned  with  the  salt  of  knowledge  and  the 
spice  of  refinement.  But  what  could  I  tell  persons,  when 
they  inquired  concerning  that  "  pearl  of  great  price," 
without  which  all  the  knowledge,  and  all  the  refinement, 
that 'any  mortal  can  possess,  are  as  "sounding  brass,  or 
tinkling  cymbals?"  What  could  I  do  but  be  silent,  or  re- 
ply, that  I  found  in  Framingham  almost  every  thing  con- 
ducive to  happiness,  except  religion?  This  was  my  an- 
swer, and  I  would  gladly  be  convinced,  that  it  was  with- 
out foundation.  What  says  your  experience  upon  this 
subject?  Did  I  mistake,  when  I  represented  that  religion 
was  almost  entirely  out  of  fashion,  especially  among  young 
persons?  If  I  did,  please  to  tell  me,  and  tell  me  your 
reasons  for  thinking  so.  I  do  not  pretend  to  exculpate 
myself.     If  my  conduct  in   this  respect  be   "weighed  in 


FRAMINGHAM.  47 

the  balance  "  of  reason,  I  know  it  will  be  "  found  want- 
ing." I  did  not  inculcate  the  importance  of  religion  with 
the  frequency,  nor  with  the  assiduity,  which  so  moment- 
ous a  subject  demands.  My  popularity  would  probably 
have  been  greater,  if  my  pretensions  to  religion  had  been 
less  ;  and  if  I  had  faithfully  performed  my  duty  in  this  re- 
spect, my  reputation  would  have  been  still  less  than  it  was. 
These  remarks,  however,  I  am  persuaded,  are  not  applica- 
ble to  all.  No,  "  I  am  persuaded  better  things  of  you," 
than  to  suppose  that  you  would  despise,  or  more  lightly 
esteem  me,  on  account  of  my  pretensions  to  religion  ;  or 
because  I  sometimes  told  my  pupils,  that  they  were  pos- 
sessed of  immortal  minds,  capable  of  incalculable  bliss  or 
wo." 

I  find  also  among  his  papers,  a  fragment  of  a  poem,  on 
the  same  scenes,  dated  at  Franklin,  1800. 

When  toilsome  studies  of  the  day  are  o'er, 
And  learned  volumes  can  delight  no  more; 
When  Phoebus,  sunk  beneath  the  western  seas, 
Paints  hovering  clouds  with  every  tint  to  please; 
Oft  mem'ry  turns,  with  joyous  musing  led, 
To  the  fair  plains,  where  Framingham  is  spread  ; 
There  walks  the  vallies,  there  ascends  the  hills; 
There  views  the  green  groves,  there  admires  the  rills; 
Inhales  the  breezes  of  retiring  day, 
And  drinks  the  song  of  whippoorwill  so  gay. 

But  still  more  oft,  when  midnight  curtains  spread 
Their  sable  horrors  round  my  slumbering  head, 
Creative  fancy  bids  me  turn  to  view 
Those  pleasing  scenes,  I  once  enjoyed  with  you. 
Again  we  ramble  devious  by  the  moon, 
Or  chase  the  minutes  with  a  cheering  tune; 
Condole  the  woes  of  innocence  betray'd, 
Or  curse  the  wretch  that  can  deceive  a  maid. 
Thus  fly  the  seconds;  thus  the  hours  move  on  ; 
Till,  haply  waked,  each  fancy'd  scene  is  gone. 

Nor  you  alone,  my  partner  do  1  find 
In  such  glod  visions  that  arrest  my  mind. 
But  other  scenes,  with  other  pleasures  fraught, 
In  fancy  wrapt,  my  roving  views  are  caught. 
Oft  at  the  *  w  *  *  *  with  facetious  glee, 
I  hear  a  joke,  or  feel  a  repartee. 
There  was  my  other  home,  there  oft  I  sat 
To  hear  some  story,  or  some  tale  relate. 


48  SCENES    AT 

How  flew  the  moments !  How  did  time  expire 
How  quick  the  clock-bell  warned  me  to  retire  ! 
Bid  me  withdraw,  and  quit  the  gladd'ning  dome, 
And  hie  in  silence  to  my  stated  home. 

Frequent,  where  once  I  trained  my  little  school, 

In  nightly  dreams  I  rule,  or  seem  to  rule, 

Censure  a  whisper,  or  a  laugh  reprove, 

And  try  their  honor,  or  their  shame  to  move; 

Tell  them  of  comets,  with  their  fright'ning  blaze; 

Trace  their  mistakes,  or  emulation  raise, 

Point  out  the  faults  of  Alexander's  scheme, 

Inspect  a  letter,  or  review  a  theme, 

Or  mend  a  pen,  or  hear  a  class  recite, 

Or  lecture  misses,  that  they  all  may  write,     [i.  e.  letters.] 

Sometimes,  invited  to  a  social  ring, 

I  hear  them  prattle,  or  I  hear  them  sing; 

Or  sit  and  muse  in  thoughtfulness  profound, 

In  sullen  silence,  while  the  dance  moves  round. 

These  once  were  real  scenes — alas,  they're  fled  ! 
With  what  celerity  the  moments  sped  ! 
These  once  were  real  scenes.     No  more  they'll  rise, 
But  when  kind  Morpheus  seals  my  weary  eyes. 

Thus  through  the  world,  from  scene  to  scene  we  run, 
Our  pleasures  ending  ere  they're  well  begun  ; 
And  when  we  strive  some  fancied  bliss  to  gain, 
Th'  expected  transport  sickens  into  pain. 
The  rose  and  lily,  that  in  spring  so  gay, 
Pour  their  sweet  fragrance  on  the  lap  of  May, 
Must  shortly  wither,  and  their  charms  decay. 
Thus  does  fond  man  a  few  swift  moments  bloom, 
Then  sinks  forgotten  to  the  mould'ring  tomb  ! 
The  beauteous  nymph,  whose  unaffected  smile 
May  hush  our  sorrows,  or  our  woes  beguile  ; 
Whose  soul  is  softness  ;  and  whose  sense-fraught  eyes 
May  shame  the  stars,  that  cheer  Hesperian  skies  ; 
Whom  every  grace  and  every  charm  adorn  ; 
Who  seems  an  angel  in  a  female  form  ; 
May,  instantaneous,  lose  her  vital  breath, 
Pierced  from  the  quiver  of  relentless  death. 
But  should  the  despot  spare  the  fatal  blow, 
Till  fourscore  years  in  quick  succession  flow, 
Yet,  long  ere  she  this  period  attain, 
Her  days  are  sorrow,  and  her  nights  are  pain. 
Care  after  care  heaps  wrinkles  on  her  face ; 
Charm  after  charm  forsakes  her  form  apace  ; 
Old  age  advances  to  augment  her  sighs, 
Bows  down  her  body,  and  bedims  her  eyes  ; 
Till,  quite  bereft  of  every  friend  and  stay, 
She  sinks  unsolaced  from  the  face  of  day. 


FRAMINGIIAM. 


49 


What  then  is  life,  that  we  should  wish  to  live? 
And  what  are  charms,  that  do  not  time  survive  ? 
What  all  the  joys,  to  this  dark  world  confined, 
And  what  the  pleasures  that  pollute  the  mind  ? 

Perhaps  a  moment,  or  perhaps  an  age, 

May  intervene,  before  we  quit  the  stage  ; 

Perhaps  ten  thousand,  or  a  single  day, 

Before  we  leave  these  tenements  of  clay. 

A  few  more  times  our  heaving  lungs  may  swell, 

Our  throbbing  hearts  a  few  more  pulses  tell ; 

A  few  more  times  the  clock  bell's  faithful  tone 

May  tell  vain  mortals  that  an  hour  is  gone  ; 

A  few  more  times  our  table  may  be  spread, 

To  nourish  nature  with  our  daily  bread ; 

A  few  more  times  the  sun  may  ope  the  day, 

And  smiling  Luna  pour  her  evening  ray; 

A  few  more  tides  may  wash  the  oozy  shore, 

And  screaming  owlets  distant  dirges  pour; 

A  few  more  times  the  day  we  style  the  Lord's, 

May  call  attention  to  the  preacher's  words  ; 

A  few  more  funerals  may  bedew  our  eyes, 

A  few  more  wonders  fill  us  with  surprise  ; 

A  few  more  whims  may  set  our  souls  on  fire  ; 

A  few  more  insults  swell  our  breasts  with  ire  ; 

The  above  is  thus  abruptly  closed,  because  the  remain- 
der is  lost.  This  may  serve  as  a  specimen  of  his  poetic 
compositions.  Others  might  be  presented,  at  different 
periods,  of  perhaps  higher  merit,  but  most  of  them  either 
present  nothing  directly  to  the  purpose  of  his  history,  or 
contain  personal  allusions,  which  it  is  needless  to  obtrude 
on  the  reader's  notice.  He  did  not,  however,  attempt  so 
much  in  the  way  of  poetry  as  some  might  expect  from  so 
ardent  a  lover  of  the  genuine  productions  of  the  etherial 
art. 

About  this  period,  I  find  among  his  papers  an  excellent 
prayer,  filling  two  sheets,  and  evidently  composed  to  aid 
him  in  his  preparations  to  lead  in  the  public  devotions  of 
a  religious  assembly.  I  mention  the  fact  for  the  purpose 
of  remarking  on  the  probable  effect  of  such  an  exercise 
on  what  was  considered  as  his  eminent  "gift  in  prayer." 
I  recollect  once  hearing  him  urge  the  importance  of  study- 
ing propriety,  adaptedness,  and  variety  of  expression,  in 
public  prayers  ;  and  that  the  frequent  exercise  of  writing 
prayers,  was  admirably  fitted  to  the  attainment  of  this  end 
in  young  ministers  and  others  who  may  be  called  to  lead 
in  the  devotions  of  God's  people.  The  object  was  not  to 
5 


50  ON    WRITING    PRAYERS. 

write  a  single  prayer  or  two,  and  commit  them  to  memory. 
This  would  rather  promote  a  dull  formality ,  which  is  one 
of  the  chief  things  to  be  avoided  by  the  exercise.  The 
individual  should  write  many  prayers,  from  time  to  time, 
but  commit  none  of  them  to  memory.  In  this  way  he  will 
acquire  a  propriety  and  copiousness  of  utterance  on  the 
great  and  more  general  topics  of  prayer.  He  should  also 
make  the  very  act  of  writing,  a  devotional  exercise  in  it- 
self. In  so  doing,  he  will  avoid  the  greatest  objection  to 
the  thing,  that  of  making  so  solemn  a  business  the  work  of 
the  mere  intellect,  instead  of  the  heart.  So  done,  it  may 
and  it  will  be  a  delightful  season  of  devotion ;  an  hour 
spent  in  '  praying  with  the  heart  and  with  the  understand- 
ing also.' — To  what  extent  my  brother  followed  this 
practice,  I  know  not,  as  the  manuscript  before  me  is  the 
only  proof  I  have  that  he  ever  did  it,  though  I  have  long 
known  what  he  thought  of  the  utility  of  the  exercise, 

But  while  my  brother  was  in  favor  of  such  methods  for 
the  improvement  of  extempore  prayer,  he  was  decidedly 
opposed  to  the  use  of  set  forms  of  prayer,  as  having  a  direct 
tendency  to  destroy  the  very  life  and  soul  of  genuine  de- 
votion, as  well  as  to  prevent  all  appropriateness  to  peculiar 
occasions. 

Under  date  of  April  5,  1800,  he  writes  to  a  friend  as 
follows  : 

"  Miss  II A has  been  here  several  days.     I 

have  spent  many  very  agreeable  hours  in  her  company, 
notwithstanding  my  own  conscious  insignificancy  from  a 
sense  of  her  superior  knowledge.  I  find  her  a  very  differ- 
ent character  from  what  I  once  imagined.  As  to  her 
knowledge,  my  former  idea  was  right;  but  I  little  drcampt 
of  finding  hor  possessed  of  so  delicate  a  taste  and  a  sensi- 
bility so  lively.  How  is  it,  E.,  that  my  preconceived 
opinions  of  persons,  have  almost  always  been  wrong  ? 
Whenever,  from  hearsay,  I  have  formed  a  very  good  or  a 
very  bad  opinion  of  any  person,  upon  personal  acquaint- 
ance it  has  almost  invariably  proved  the  reverse.  Suffice 
it  to  say.  there  have  been  exceptions. 

11  Miss  A.'s  History  has  afforded  me  much  entertain- 
ment. I  think  it  an  excellent  book  for  a  social  library, 
and  woithy  the  perusal  of  every  American,  male  or  fe- 
male. 


AT    FRANKLIN. AT    CAMBRIDGE.  51 

"  I  have  lived  here  six  months,  with  scarcely  any  soci- 
ety or  social  intercourse,  but  what  I  have  found  in  the 
house.  Comparatively  speaking,  I  have  hardly  set  foot  in 
a  neighbor's  door  all  the  while.  Though  not  ambitious  to 
form  new  acquaintances,  I  have  not  forgotten  my  old  ones. 
Yet  I  do  not  live  in  a  hermitage.  I  have  as  much  com- 
pany, perhaps,  on  the  whole,  as  is  for  my  advantage  ;  and 
it  is  such  as  is  very  far  from  being  disagreeable.  Here  I 
can  enjoy  conversation,  either  serious,  solid,  or  cheerful. 

"  I  feel  more  and  more  confirmed  in  my  resolution  not 
to  attempt  any  more  poetry.  Some  days  ago,  however,  I 
wrote  a  few  lines  without  thinking  of  my  purpose,  but  I 
soon  recollected  myself.  I  have  burnt  some  of  my  manu- 
factured rhymes,  and  the  rest,  except  a  few  that  I  have 
had  the  weakness  to  put  out  of  my  power,  are  in  the  most 
imminent  danger  of  conflagration." 

About  the  middle  of  the  next  month,  we  find  him  at 
Cambridge,  where  he  went  with  the  intention  of  remain- 
ing six  months  as  resident  graduate  of  the  college.  Here 
he  pursued  his  studies,  and,  as  I  am  informed  by  gentle- 
men then  at  the  college,  occasionally  read  a  dissertation 
before  the  students  in  the  chapel,  as  was  incumbent  on  all 
the  theological  students.  White  at  Cambridge,  he  was 
probably  guided  in  his  studies  by  Dr.  Tappan,  a  divine 
essentially  of  the  old  school,  and  then  professor  of  divinity 
in  the  college. 

After  leaving  the  academy  at  Framingham,  as  appears 
from  numerous  letters  now  before  me,  he  kept  up  a  cor- 
respondence, for  some  years,  with  several  of  his  former 
pupils.  These  letters  afford  ample  evidence  of  his  lasting 
friendship  to  his  pupils,  and  the  pleasure  he  still  felt  in 
prompting  and  guiding  the  improvement  of  their  minds. 
I  have  already  made  extracts  from  some  of  these  letters, 
and  shall  give  some  more,  though  the  proposed  limits  of 
this  work  will  compel  me  to  omit  the  greater  part.  I  find 
him  frequently  giving  liberty  to  the  individual  addressed, 
to  show  his  communication  to  others  of  his  former  charge, 
as  his  object  was  that  of  communicating  what  benefit  and 
rational  pleasure  he  could  to  all  of  them.  The  following 
long  extract  will  illustrate  several  points  in  his  history  at 
this  period,  while  it  may  afford  instruction  to  some  on 
topics  of  serious  moment. 


52  god's  purposes  and 

Cambridge,   Oct.  30,  1800. 

I  believe,  N.,  I  never  before  sat  down  to  write  you  a 
letter,  when  I  felt  so  undecided  respecting  matter  to  com- 
pose it.  I  do  not  plead  penury  of  ideas.  Like  Elihu,the 
son  of  Barachel  the  Buzite,  I  am  full  of  matter.  I  feel  as 
though  1  could  write  the  remainder  of  this  century,  and 
yet  leave  many  things  unwritten,  which  I  would  gladly 
communicate.  The  difficulty  is  to  select,  rather  than  to 
conceive  materials.  To  write  a  volume,  like  my  last, 
would  greatly  interfere  with  the  discharge  of  many  impor- 
tant duties.  A  few  hasty  pages  are  all  I  can  consistently 
promise  you.  I  could  begin  with  myself,  and  give  you  a  par- 
ticular account  of  the  occurrences  which  have  diversified 
my  life,  since  I  saw  you  last.  Many  of  these  have  been 
important  and  interesting.  I  hope  they  have  left  good 
impressions  on  my  heart,  and  will  have  a  happy  influence 
in  forming  it  to  virtue,  as  well  as  in  improving  and  enlarg- 
ing my  understanding.  I  could  tell  you  how  many  excel- 
lent books  I  have  read,  and  how  many  I  wish  to  read.  I 
could  give  you  a  particular  account  of  the  origin,  progress,, 
and  termination  of  my  correspondence  with  Miss  E.  P.> 
whom  I  never  saw.  I  could  take  up  much  time  and  pa- 
per in  describing  and  characterizing  my  correspondents, 
with  whom  you  are  not  acquainted.  I  could  relate  the 
intentions  I  have  formed,  and  the  plans  I  have  laid,  to 
visit  my  friends  in  Framingham,  and  probably  offer  a  sat- 
isfactory reason  for  altering  my  mind.  I  could  give  you 
an  account  of  the  visit  I  have  lately  made  to  Newburyport, 
and  faintly  describe  the  emotions  which  1  felt  at  viewing 
the  grave  of  Eliza  Whitman  (Wharton)  yesterday  in  Dan- 
vers. 

But  leaving  the  relation  of  the  things  above  mentioned 
for  the  present,  and  perhaps  forever,  I  will  converse  with 
you  a  while  respecting  the  contents  of  a  letter,  which 
a  few  hours  ago  I  had  the  gratification  to  receive — which 
gratification,  as  I  instantly  knew  the  hand-writing,  was 
not  increased,  even  when  I  saw  your  name  at  the  end  of 
three  long  pages.  As  I  cannot  be  very  particular,  a  few 
brief  observations  must  suffice  for  this  time. 

Like  yourself  and  many  others,  I  once  thought  it  much 
easier  to  reconcile  our  freedom  with  God's  foreknowledge, 
than  with  his  decrees.  A  more  close  examination  of  the 
matter  has  induced  me  to  believe  otherwise.     I  have  not 


man's  freedom.  53 

time  to  express  my  ideas  more  fully  on  this  subject,  than 
they  are  expressed  in  my  last  letter. 

You  suppose,  that  God,  having  capacitated  man  to  act 
without  an  immediate  exertion  of  divine  power  upon  his 
mind,  might  know  how  man  would  conduct  without  deter- 
mining his  conduct.  Supposing  your  hypothesis  true,  or 
rather  the  first  part  of  it,  which  supposes  man  capable  of 
acting  without  divine  influence,  let  us  see  if  the  difficulty 
is  in  any  measure  alleviated.  You  will  probably  grant, 
that,  if  man  had  been  endowed  with  different  powers  and 
faculties,  and  placed  in  different  circumstances,  his  con- 
duct also  would  have  been  different.  God  must  know 
this,  if  it  be  a  truth.  And  he  must  likewise  know,  that,  if 
he  endowed  man  with  particular  powers  and  faculties,  and 
placed  him  in  particular  circumstances,  man  would  con- 
duct in  a  particular  manner.  Otherwise,  it  is  hardly  con- 
ceivable, to  speak  with  reverence,  that  man's  conduct 
could  be  foreknown,  even  by  the  Deity.  When,  therefore, 
God  determined  to  make  man  just  such  a  being,  and  to 
place  him  in  just  such  circumstances,  as  he  did  make,  and 
place  him ;  did  not  God  virtually,  and  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  as  it  respects  the  subject  under  consideration, 
determine  every  event  of  man's  life  ?  I  know  of  but  one 
way  in  which  the  force  of  this  mode  of  reasoning  can  be 
evaded  with  any  appearance  of  plausibility.  It  is  this. 
Some  may  imagine,  that  God  gave  man  a  certain  power, 
which  they  are  pleased  to  style  a  sdf-determining  power, 
which  enables  him  to  will,  to  act,  etc.,  or  rather,  by  which 
he  wills,  without  motive,  or  contrary  to  motive,  indepen- 
dently of  every  circumstance  in  which  he  may  be  situated, 
and  independently  of  God  himself.  Please  to  consider,  N., 
we  are  on  metaphysical  ground.  Let  us  walk  slowly  and 
cautiously.  This  self-determining  power,  they  say,  is  not 
deduced  by  argumentation,  but  felt  by  immediate  con- 
sciousness. Now,  N.,  be  kind  enough  to  turn  your  atten- 
tion inward,  and  read  your  own  mind.  Are  you  conscious, 
were  you  ever  conscious,  of  any  such  power  of  self-deter- 
mination? If  indeed  you  be,  or  ever  have  been,  no  rea- 
soning can  convince  you  to  the  contrary.  Intuition,  or 
immediate  consciousness  is  above  reason,  and  mocks  its 
efforts,  when  it  opposes.  I  might  pursue  the  notion  of  a 
self-determining  power  a  few  steps  further,  and  inquire, 
whether  in  its  exertions  it  is  voluntary  or  involuntary,  etc. 
5* 


54 


DECREES    AND    FREEDOM, 


Such  investigation  might  amuse  you,  if  you  have  acquired 
a  considerable  relish  for  metaphysical  discussions.  But 
for  want  of  time,  as  the  subject  under  consideration  does 
not  require  it,  it  must  be  postponed  at  least.  Supposing, 
then,  that  we  have  such  a  self-determining  power,  which 
I  am  very  far  from  believing,  how  can  it  effect  the  point 
we  are  considering  ]  The  Deity  must  certainly  know  the 
nature  of  such  a  power,  and  also  how  man  would  use  it; 
or,  more  properly,  how  that  would  use  him,  if  he  were  en- 
dowed with  it.  When  God  therefore  determined  to  endow 
man  with  such  a  power,  he  must  necessarily  determine  all 
the  known  effects  of  the  power.  Where  then  is  the  ad- 
vantage of  supposing  its  existence  1 

But  you  do  not  deny  the  divine  decrees,  though  you 
confess  yourself  ignorant  how  they  can  be  reconciled  with 
our  freedom.  Here,  N.,  you  cannot  doubt  my  willingness 
to  assist  you.  In  such  an  attempt  I  might  be  unsuccess- 
ful. In  former  years,  my  mind  has  been  much  perplexed 
in  considering  and  trying  to  reconcile  "  these  two  points." 
Had  I  time,  however,  I  would  attempt  to  afford  you  some 
assistance  upon  a  point,  considered  by  some  the  most  in- 
tricate in  metaphysics.  I  could  tell  you  that  some  con- 
sider it  improper  to  ask,  how  these  points  can  be  recon- 
ciled. We  know  that  many  things  exist,  though  we  can- 
not tell  how  they  exist.  I  could  refer  you  to  yourself  and 
ask,  if  you  can  form  an  idea  how  you  exist ;  how  your  soul 
exists  :  how  your  body  exists ;  how  these  two  substances, 
apparently  so  different,  are  united ;  how  they  mutually 
affect  each  other.  I  could  desire  you  to  consider  with 
yourself,  whether  you  can  comprehend  the  growth  of  an 
animal,  or  the  vegetation  of  a  plant.  I  could  ask  you 
whether  you  can  comprehend  how  the  Deity  can  exist? 
or  whether,  for  a  moment,  you  can  doubt  his  being  ?  I 
might  then  inquire,  whether  you  cannot  believe  some 
things  which  you  cannot  comprehend?  In  this  way,  as 
well  as  by  metaphysical  discussion,  it  is  possible,  that  I 
might,  in  some  measure,  alleviate  the  burden,  which  a 
consideration  of  these  matters  may  sometimes  throw  upon 
your  mind.  But  I  must  dismiss  the  subject,  earnestly  de- 
siring you  to  "  search  the  scriptures,"  "  to  think  on  these 
things,"  and  to  think  on  them  with  attention,  with  humil- 
ity, with  sincere  and  ardent  desires  to  see,  to  feel,  to  love 
the  truth,  and  to  bring  forth  the  fruits  of  righteousness  in 


CII1R0GRAFHY,    ETC.  55 

a  life  of  piety,  of  beneficence,  of  joy — of  joy? — joy  in  this 
world  ?  Yes,  my  dear  pupil,  joy  in  this  world  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  that  religion  which  speaks  peace  and  good  will 
to  men. 

I  cannot  describe  to  you  my  numerous  avocations,  but 
assure  you,  that   for  want  of  time  to   accomplish  my  de- 
signs, I  am   "pressed  beyond   measure."     In  five  or  six 
weeks,  1  expect  to  be  more  at  leisure.     A  few  more  re- 
marks, therefore,  upon  your  letter  must  suffice.     I  have  in 
store  for   you   some   censure  and  some  applause.     With 
which  shall  I  begin?     With  the  censure?     Well,  then, 
prepare  for  a  reprimand,  and,  if  you  please,  repay  me  in 
the  same  coin.     You  cannot  discharge  the  debt  in  a  man- 
ner more  acceptable.    I  shall  be  far  from  thinking  such  an 
attempt  in  you  presumptuous.     In   reading  your  letter,  I 
remarked, — what  any  person  would  obviously  remark  in 
reading  most  of  my  writing, — too  great  a  degree  of  haste, 
and  too  litile  attention  to  chirography.     Whether  1  have 
in  any  degree  reformed,  in  this  particular,  a  comparison 
of  this  letter  with  my  last,  will  enable  you  to  judge.     If  I 
have,  I  hope  you  will  "do  likewise,"    "and  much  more 
abundantly."     An  elegant  hand  writing,  though  not  "the 
one  thing  needful,"  is  unquestionably  a  fine   accomplish- 
ment.    It  is  what  I  despair  of  ever  acquiring;  but,  be  as- 
sured, I  shall  never  envy  you  the  attainment.     I   might 
make  similar  observations  to  our  friend  M.,  and  you  may 
tell  her,  if  you  please.     I  am  determined  to  form  a  habit 
of  writing  more  slowly,  and  paying  a  more  particular  at- 
tention to  the  formation  of  every  letter,  than  has  hitherto 
been  my  practice.     We  should  not  totally  disregard  the 
"  mint  and  cummin,"  though  "  the  weightier  matters  of  the 
law"  claim   our  first   and   principal   attention.     Two  or 
three  erroneous   spellings  are   noticeable,  which  perhaps 
are  owing  entirely  to  inattention.     The  contractions  don't, 
can't,  which  you  have  used,  are  very  rarely  admissable, 
and  never,  but  in  compositions  the  most  familiar  or  trilling. 
Though  1  have  sometimes  used  them  in  letters,  yet  I  am 
almost  convinced  that  it  is  best  to  omit  them  entirely. 

With  the  sentiments  of  the  two  last  pages  of  your  letter, 
I  very  nearly  concur.  Perhaps  more  mature  reflection 
may  enable  you  to  reply  more  copiously  to  some  of  the 
queries  stated  in  my  former  letter.  Subjects  respecting 
education  may  often  be  introduced,  and  discussed  in  large 


66 

circles,  without  giving  offence  to  any  person.     I  think  the 

people  of are  too  fond  of  large  parties.     A  large  and 

mixed  circle  appears  to  me  a  place  in  which  it  is  pecu- 
liarly difficult  to  spend  our  time  profitably  to  ourselves,  or 
in  a  manner  acceptable  to  our  final  Judge.  As  conversa- 
tion is  generally  conducted  in  large  parties,  I  think  it 
tends  more  to  pollute  than  to  improve  the  mind.  Think 
not  that  I  am  an  enemy  to  social  intercourse.  Far  from  it. 
I  could  write  a  volume  in  its  favor.  But  large  parties  are 
generally  attended  with  very  little  advantage.  As  in  such 
circles,  fashion  has  laid  an  embargo  upon  every  subject 
either  serious  or  literary,  what  should  we  expect  to  find  in 
them,  but  an  alternation  of  silence  and  of  frivolous  con- 
versation ?     And  what  else  do  we  generally  find  ? 

I  have  not  relinquished  my  design  of  writing  a  treatise, 
or  at  least  an  essay,  upon  the  very  important  subject  of 
education,  principally  for  my  own  improvement  and 
amusement.  But  I  find  much  labor  is  necessary,  before 
I  can  begin  it.  In  order  to  preserve  a  tolerable  degree  of 
connection,  proportion,  and  consistency  between  the  parts, 
a  general  plan  of  the  whole  must  be  first  formed.  As  it  is 
one  of  my  favorite  subjects  of  contemplation,  I  have  al- 
ready projected  the  outlines  of  a  part  of  it.  But  in  order 
to  mature  it  sufficiently  to  begin  the  execution,  much 
reading  and  much  thought  will  be  indispensable.  It 
is  necessary  to  know  what  others  have  written  upon 
the  subject,  in  order  to  determine  whether  what  ap- 
pear to  me  improvements,  are  really  such.  Ten  vol- 
umes, at  least,  I  wish  to  read.  Besides  reading  and 
thinking,  something  else  is  very  desirable.  This  is  expe- 
rience. Many  modes  of  conducting  the  different  parts  of 
education,  which  in  theory  appear  so  promising,  might  not 
bear  the  test  of  experiment.  Another  year's  practice  in  a 
school,  might  afford  important  light  upon  this  matter.  But 
my  profession,  the  profession  of  my  choice,  is  theology; 
and  my  theological  fathers  and  brethren  would  probably 
advise  me  not  to  undertake  again  the  office  of  a  peda- 
gogue. But  I  feel  more  accountable  to  God,  than  to  his 
ministers,  for  the  manner  of  employing  my  time.  Would 
health  permit,  I  might  possibly  do  as  much  good  by 
preaching  and  keeping  school  at  the  same  time,  as  by 
preaching  only  ;  though  the  voice  of  the  world  would  be, 
that  I  did  it  for  the  sake  of  filthy  lucre.     Without  men- 


CHIROGRAPHY,    ETC.  57 

tioning  the  numerous  arguments  that  have  passed  through 
my  mind,  for  the  measure  and  against  it,  I  can  tell  you 
that  I  have  more  than  once  almost  come  to  a  resolution  to 
undertake  once  more  the  arduous  but  agreeable  task  of 
literary  instruction.  At  present,  however,  I  feel  quite  un- 
decided. Unless  I  have  an  opportunity  of  a  previous  in- 
terview, perhaps  I  shall  mention  the  subject  in  my  next. 

In  your  next  I  expect  a  dissertation  upon  the  utility  of 
knowledge.  You  need  not  be  afraid  of  tiring  my  patience 
by  its  length.     Farewell, 

The  resolution  above  expressed,  '  to  write  more  slowly, 
and  to  form  every  letter  more  accurately,'  is  one  which  he 
kept  to  admirable  purpose.  From  about  this  period,  his 
chirography  becomes  much  more  easy  and  elegant ;  and 
what  is  perhaps  rather  a  rare  concomitant  of  such  a 
change,  so  perfectly  legible  as  to  be  read  with  almost  the 
same  ease  as  print.  I  may  here  add,  that  from  this  period, 
I  scarcely  find  a  single  word  omitted,  or  interlined,  or 
misspelt,  in  the  whole  of  his  manuscripts.  And  yet,  at 
least  in  later  years,  he  used  to  write  with  great  rapidity. 
Such  accuracy,  though  in  these  comparatively  minor  mat- 
ters, is  a  great  saving  of  time  in  the  course  of  a  life,  even 
should  it  cost  occasional  discipline  for  weeks  or  months. 
But  how  he  should  so  soon  attain  to  such  accuracy,  as 
neither  to  omit  a  word,  nor  to  insert  a  redundant  one,  is 
surprising.  I  remember,  however,  that  from  principle,  he 
rigidly  enforced  on  himself  the  rules  he  prescribed  for  oth- 
ers. His  chirography  soon  became  fixed,  according  to  a 
system  of  his  own,  and  was  ever  after  almost  perfectly  uni- 
form. However  great  his  hurry  in  writing,  there  was  the 
same  neatness  and  perfect  legibility.  This  system  he 
taught  to  his  pupils  in  subsequent  years;  and  it  has  been 
rare  that  one  of  them  has  failed  of  acquiring  it  in  such 
perfection,  that  her  chirography  would  not  at  once  be  re- 
cognized as  that  of  his  school.  Legibility  was  the  prime 
object  he  had  in  view:  and  with  this  were  combined  neat- 
ness, ease,  and  rapidity  of  execution,  to  the  entire  exclu- 
sion of  needless  ornament,  as  it  tends  only  to  obscure  leg- 
ibility. In  chirography,  as  in  almost  every  thing  else,  he 
had  a  specific  reason  to  assign  for  every  movement. 

I  need  not  remark  on  what  is  so  obvious  from  the  above 
extract,  viz,  the  zeal  with  which  he  had  already  embarked 


58  PASTORS    SHOULD    FIRST    BE    TEACHERS. 

in  the  great  cause  of  education — a  zeal  which  never  flag- 
ged to  the  hour  of  his  death. 

The  remarks  he  here  makes  on  the  utility  of  combining 
the  offices  of  preaching  and  literary  instruction,  remind 
me  of  a  topic  on  which  I  have  often  heard  him  insist  with 
much  zeal ;  I  mean  the  importance  to  a  pastor  of  his 
having  once  been  a  school  teacher,  for  at  least  a  short  pe- 
riod. This  he  considered  as  desirable  on  many  accounts. 
The  pastor  would  better  understand  the  art  of  access  to 
the  youthful  minds  of  his  flock,  in  the  pulpit,  in  the  Sab- 
bath school,  in  the  bible  class,  and  in  parochial  visits. 
He  would  also  be  much  better  able  to  discharge  that  im- 
portant portion  of  duty  which  is  ordinarily  devolved  on  a 
parish  minister,  in  the  examination  of  school  teachers,  and 
the  visiting  and  superintendence  of  schools.  For  these 
purposes,  he  very  properly  judged  that  a  few  months  spent 
in  teaching,  must  be  of  great  use  to  the  young  preacher, 
in  fitting  him  for  the  business  of  his  profession 

I  know  not  the  precise  time  at  which  he  returned  from 
Cambridge  to  the  agreeable  mansion  of  his  former  teach- 
er, where  we  find  him  at  the  date  of  the  following  epistle. 

Franklin,  Feb.  1801. 

I  begin  with  an  intention  of  writing  you  a  letter  of  con- 
siderable length.  I  have  one  favor  to  ask,  which,  I  am 
confident,  you  will  not  deny  me.  That  is,  that  you  would 
not  expect  much  regularity  or  connection  in  this  letter.  It 
will  constitute  the  agreeable  employment  of  my  leisure 
moments  for  several  days  ;  and  1  shall  be  necessitated  to 
write  with  more  rapidity  than  may  be  consistent  with  much 
attention  to  accuracy  or  elegance  in  either  chirography  or 
diction. 

You  are  pleased  with  the  Botanic  Garden,  and,  you 
need  not  be  informed,  that  in  this  pleasure  I  most  cor- 
dially rejoice  with  you.  But  my  rejoicing  is  not  entirely 
without  alloy.  I  fear  that  my  conduct  toward  you  and 
some  others  has  not  been,  in  all  respects,  exactly  right. 
Pause  a  moment,  and  see  if  you  cannot  conjecture  in  what 
respect. 

You  express  a  grateful  sense  for  the  assistance  which 
you  suppose  I  have  afforded  you  in  cultivating  your  taste 
for' reading,  and  in  kindling  your  desire  for  knowledge. 
And  it  is  possible  that  my  exertions  may  have  contributed 


DARWIN. YOUNG.  59 

to  produce  such  effect.     But  there  may  be   a  taste  for 
reading,  there  may  be  a  most  ardent  thirst  for  knowledge, 
without  religion.     It   is  true  I  have  not  enjoyed  so  many 
opportunities,  without  sometimes  mentioning  to  you  the 
subject  of  religion,  and  attempting  to  vindicate  its   truth 
and  importance.     But  I  very  much  fear  that  in  my  verbal 
and  epistolary  communications  with  you,  a  disproportion- 
ate attention  has  been  paid  to  those  things  which  are  not 
religion,  to  those  things  which  do  not  imply  religion  ;   and 
that  the  one  thing  needful  has  been  criminally  neglected. 
The  question  is  not,  whether  my  conduct  has  been  worse 
than  that  of  any  others   who  have    named  the   name  of 
Christ,  but  whether  I  have  not  acted  an  inconsistent  part; 
whether  my  life  and  conversation  have  not  exhibited  reli- 
gion as  less    important,   less  amiable,  less  worthy  of  our 
supreme  attention,  than  the  word  of  God  has  declared  it. 
But  to  return  to  the  subject.     I  can  rejoice  with  you  in 
your    fondness   of    Darwin.     But   it   is    with   trembling. 
Whoever  can  read  the  Botanic  Garden,  understanuingly 
and   feelingly,   is  admitted   to  a  most  delicious  feast,  of 
which  the  world  in  general  cannot  taste,  cannot  dream, 
cannot  conceive.     But  it  is  a  "  Garden  tempting  with  for- 
bidden fruit."     Whatever  greatly  engages  the  heart,  which 
is  not  necessarily  connected  with  religion,  is  in  danger  of 
perverting   the    attention   from  religious    contemplations. 
This  is  not  necessarily  the  case  with  Darwin's  poetry  ;  but 
this  may  be  the  case.     And  unless  it  leads   us   to  look 
through  nature   up   to  nature's  God,  and   to  admire  and 
adore  the  Maker  and  Builder  of  all  things,  it  will  produce 
the  grapes  of  Sodom  and  the  clusters  of  Gomorrah.     The 
Botanic  Garden  is  one   of  my  bosom  companions,  and  I 
hope  never  to  part  with  it  while  I  live;    but  I  cannot  say 
that  1  hold  the  poetry  of  D.,  or  any  other,  not  of  a  religious 
nature,  in  so  high  estimation  as  formerly. 

You  know  my  former  opinion  of  Young.  I  read  a  por- 
tion of  the  Night  Thoughts  almost  every  week,  and  that 
with  increasing  admiration.  I  find  new  beauties  in  al- 
most every  line.  It  is  true,  he  is  not  without  imperfec- 
tions ;  neither  is  the  sun  without  spots.  Young's  obscur- 
ity is,  I  apprehend,  the  principal  reason  that  he  has  so 
few  readers,  even  among  the  serious.  This  obscurity 
appears  to  be  partly  owing  to  this  circumstance,  that  he 


60 


TRANSPOSITION    OF    POETRY. 


crowds  so  many  ideas  into  so  few  lines.  Persons  are  apt 
to  read  Young  too  fast,  and  by  too  large  portions  at  once. 
Three  or  four  hundred  lines  is  quite  enough  to  be  read  at 
a  time,  and  this  ought  to  employ  the  closest  attention  for 
an  hour,  or  an  hour  and  a  half.  I  believe  many  persons, 
who  think  Young's  poetry  above  the  level  of  their  under- 
standing, might  read  it  with  great  satisfaction.  And  per- 
haps you  may  find  it  advantageous  to  read  the  Night 
Thoughts  once  through  in  this  way. 

There  is  another  way,  which  I  think  you  may  practice 
with  great  advantage,  in  order  to  ascertain  the  meaning 
of  Young,  or  any  other  obscure  writer.  This  is,  to  read 
a  few  lines,  and  then  write  down  the  ideas  in  your  own 
words,  and  those  the  most  simple  and  familiar  in  your 
power.  In  such  an  exercise,  you  will  find  other  advanta- 
ges besides  that  of  understanding  your  author.  Without 
mentioning  these,  I  shall  make  one  or  two  observations 
upon  what  may  be  denominated  transposition.  In  the  first 
place,  read  over  the  piece  you  intend  to  transpose,  in  order 
to  imbibe  the  general  spirit  of  it.  Then  begin  with  the 
first  sentence,  and  ascertain  the  meaning  of  every  word 
and  phrase,  as  exactly  as  possible.  If  it  consist  of  mem- 
bers, see  if  they  cannot  be  transposed  to  advantage.  Af- 
ter deciding  upon  the  member  of  the  sentence  with  which 
to  begin,  think  how  it  can  be  expressed  in  the  most  easy, 
familiar,  and  intelligible  prose.  You  will  sometimes  find 
it  necessary  to  use  twice  as  many  words  as  your  author,  in 
order  to  express  the  same  ideas ;  and  you  may  now  and 
then  intersperse  an  idea  of  your  own,  when  you  can  do  it 
with  perfect  ease.  In  this  manner  you  may  proceed,  till 
you  have  finished  twenty  or  thirty  lines,  which  will  be 
enough  for  one  exercise.  You  and  your  sister  may  find  a 
mutual  advantage  from  transposing  the  same  piece  separ- 
ately, and  then  comparing  your  productions.  Figurative 
language  may  be  retained  or  not,  just  as  is  most  conven- 
ient ;  but  always  endeavor  to  be  consistent  with  yourself 
in  this  particular. 

To  illustrate  what  I  have  said,  I  will  attempt  the  trans- 
position of  a  few  lines  ;  which,  however,  you  must  not 
consider  as  a  model  for  your  imitation. 

I  have  just  opened  to  a  passage  which  will  answer  my 
purpose.  It  is  near  the  middle  of  the  Relapse,  (Night  5,) 
and  begins,  "  Our  funeral  tears,"  etc. 


HOW    TO    READ    WELL.  61 

*  Though  tears  are  generally  considered  as  an  expres- 
sion of  sorrow,  yet  they  are  extremely  diverse,  especially 
those  shed  at  funerals,  and  flow  from  a  variety  of  causes. 
Some  are  possessed  of  hearts  so  feeling,  and  sympathetic, 
that  they  cannot  cease  for  a  moment  to  weep  with  them 
that  weep.  Some  whose  emotions  are  less  vigorous,  re- 
quire more  time  to  work  themselves  up  into  a  weeping 
frame,  and  thus  show  their  condolence  by  their  tears. 
Some  who  in  secret  will  not  heave  a  single  sigh  at  the 
woes  of  a  brother,  will  weep  in  public  lest  the  world  should 
think  them  destitute  of  natural  affections.  [Like  Moses' 
smitten  rock,  is  a  comparison  I  dislike.]  Some  weep  in 
order  to  participate  the  praises  of  the  dead,  to  show  that 
they  were  the  friends,  to  imply  that  they  were  the  beloved 
of  the  wise  and  honorable.  They  dwell  with  enthusiasm 
on  those  qualities  of  which  they  suppose  themselves  pos- 
sessed in  common  with  the  deceased,  and  in  this  way  have 
the  impudence  to  commend  themselves  without  a  single 
blush.' — This  will  serve  for  a  specimen. 

There  is  another  exercise  which  I  would  recommend, 
and  which  I  think  you  will  find  of  great  utility  to  yourself 
and  others.  Select  some  piece,  with  which  you  are  well 
acquainted,  such  as  Thompson's  Lavinia,  hymn.?,  and  the 
like  ;  and,  in  presence  of  your  younger  sisters,  read,  ex- 
plain— explain  and  read  it,  until  they  understand  it  as 
well  as  yourself.  By  explaining  the  words,  by  reading 
witli  proper  tones,  emphasis,  cadence,  etc.,  with  a  little 
explanation  of  the  most  obscure  parts,  you  may  make  even 
young  children  understand  almost  any  thing  which  you 
clearly  understand.  This  will  be  of  vast  advantage  to  them. 
It  is  perhaps  the  best  way  of  leading  them  into  a  habit  of 
seeking  to  understand  what  they  read.  And,  by  the  way, 
I  would  just  remark,  that  it  appears  almost  impossible  that 
children  should  not  contract  bad  habits  in  reading  so 
much,  and  understanding  so  little  as  is  commonly  the 
case.  How  is  it  possible  that  they  should  read  naturally 
what  they  do  not  understand  ? 

In  the  above  mentioned  exercise,  great  advantage  will 
also  accrue  to  yourself.  The  more  you  try  to  read  intel- 
ligibly to  a  child,  the  better  you  will  probably  read. 
Scarcely  any  thing  will  have  a  greater  tendency  to  induce 
you  to  read,  and  to  form  a  habit  of  reading  in  the  most 
easy,  natural,  familiar  manner  possible.  Children  are 
6 


62 


LICENSED    TO    PREACH. 


now  the  best  instructors  I  have  in  reading,  or  ever  expect 
to  have. 

Though  I  have  said  much  in  favor  of  Young,  yet  he  is 
not  my  oracle.  Even  in  his  Night  Thoughts,  are  many 
sentiments  not  coincident  with  my  own.  Learn  therefore 
to  separate  the  chaff  from  the  wheat.  I  wish  you  to  read 
the  "Infidel  Reclaimed"  and  inform  me  whether  you 
think  all  the  arguments  conclusive. 

If  I  can  give  you  any  useful  direction  in  your  choice  of 
books,  be  assured  I  shall  do  it  with  the  greatest  alacrity. 
Books  are  a  very  necessary  means  of  knowledge.  But  a 
person  may  read  all  the  books  in  the  world  without  be- 
coming learned.  Thinking,  thinking  makes  the  scholar. 
I  have  told  you  often,  and  would  now  once  more  put  you 
in  remembrance,  that  you  may  habitually  bear  it  in  mind, 
to  examine  critically  what  you  read,  and  to  judge  for  your- 
self. Is  not  your  reason  strong  enough  to  begin  to  go 
alone  ?  Millions  greatly  injure  their  intellects,  by  care- 
lessly reading  many  books.  It  is  much  better  to  read, 
understand,  and  digest  a  few  good  books,  than  to  run  over 
whole  libraries  in  a  cursory  way,  as  is  the  manner  of  some. 
Miss  More's  strictures  on  female  education  merit  an  atten- 
tive perusal,  and  I  hope  will  happily  and  usefully  engage 
your  attention  for  many  hours.  This  is  a  book  of  uncom- 
mon and  deserved  celebrity,  and  I  have  purchased  it 
principally  for  the  use  of  my  female  acquaintances. 
Please  to  read  it  with  your  sisters  as  soon  as  is  convenient, 
and  then  let  M.  T.  have  it,  or  any  other  person  who  will 
take  the  trouble  to  read  it. 

Not  far  from  this  time,  he  received  a  license  to  preach, 
and  also  an  appointment  as  tutor  at  Cambridge.  The 
letter  from  which  I  extract  the  following,  is  addressed  to 
Miss  G.  Fletcher,  a  distant  relative,  I  believe. 

Warner,  July  23,1801. 
Though  "  man  that  is  born  of  a  woman,  is  of  few  days 
and  full  of  trouble,'"  yet,  considered  as  an  immortal  being, 
he  is  by  no  means  contemptible.  If  we  have  good  evi- 
dence to  believe,  that  there  is  a  "  world  to  come;"  if  it 
be  true,  that  we  are  probationers  for  an  endless  state  of 
existence  beyond  the  grave  ;  then  surely  the  work  which 
God  is  now  giving  us  to  do,  is  solemn,  interesting,  and 


SEEKS    SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 


63 


important,  beyond  conception.     For  an  individual  entirely 
insulated  from  his  species,  to  prepare  for  eternity,  must  be 
a  work  of  vast  importance.     Still  more  important  is  such 
a  work  in  society,  where  a  person's  conduct  has  perpetual 
influence  upon  others.     As  social  duties  increase,  this  all- 
important  work  must  rise  in  importance.     Who  are  com- 
mitted to  parents  to  be  "  trained  up  in  the   nurture  and 
admonition  of  the  Lord  ?     Immortals.     Who  are  commit- 
ted to  ministers,  to  be  fed  with  the  bread  of  life  ?     Im- 
mortals.     Who  are  committed  to  ministers  to  be  warned, 
reproved,  rebuked?     Immortals.     Pause  then   for  a  mo- 
ment and  reflect.  What  has  your  friend  undertaken  ?  "To 
preach  the  everlasting  gospel ;"  to  be  "  a  savor  of  life  unto 
life,  or  of  death  unto  death."     "  Who  is  sufficient  for  these 
things  ?"     Will  you  not  pray  for  me   that  my  "  faith  fail 
not ;"  that  I  disgrace  not  my  high  calling  ?     Perhaps  you 
will  think  me  wrong  in  accepting  an  offer  so  confined  and 
arduous  as  that  of  a  tutor.     But  1  can   assure  you  that 
upon  mature  deliberation  I  verily  thought  it  consistent 
with  my  making  the  greatest  possible  progress  in  my  pro- 
fession.    Be  assured/my  great  object  is  to  be  qualified  for 
my  sacred  profession.     In  comparison  with  this,  all  other 
qualifications  appear  lighter  than  vanity.     In  this  you  can 
assist  me.     I  trust  our  correspondence  may  subserve  this 
great  end  ;   and  I  hope,  without  proving   an  unprofitable 
encroachment  upon  your  time.     But  how  ?     Perhaps  in 
many  ways  of  which  you  do  not  dream.     Almost  every 
kind  of  knowledge,  and  especially  the  knowledge  of  the 
human  heart,  but  particularly  the   knowledge  of  my  own 
heart,  appears  to  me  highly  desirable,  in  discharging  the 
duties  of  my  profession.     And  experience  has  in  some 
measure  taught  me,  that  this  may  be  acquired  by  a  judi- 
cious correspondence.     It  has  been  said  that  every  person 
needs  bitter  enemies  or  very  faithful  friends  to  remind  him 
of  his  failings.     Now,  my  enemies  do  not  take  the  trouble 
to  remind  me  of  my  faults.     And  as  for  friends,  alas!  how 
has  the  sacred  name  been  prostituted !     I  trust,  however, 
I  have  some  who  have   fidelity  enough  to  discharge  the 
kind  office.     I  will  just  mention  a  late  instance.     A  few 
days  aero   a  gentleman  gave  me  to  understand   that  many 
in  this°town  were  not  so  well  pleased  with  my  preaching 
a?  with  Mr.  M.'s,  and  told  me  the  reasons.     This  was  a 
greater  evidence  to  me  of  the  man's  sincere  friendship, 


64  HIS    APPOINTMENT 

than  if  he  had  commended  my  preaching  three  hours ; 
and  surely  I  shall  never  think  of  him  without  emotions  of 
gratitude  and  love.  Among  my  correspondents,  there  is 
one,  who,  I  verily  believe,  is  faithful  to  inform  me  of  what- 
ever she  thinks  conducive  to  my  welfare  or  improvement. 
It  is  Miss  H.  Adams.  May  I  not  hope  to  find  another  in 
MissG.  F.  ?  Perhaps  you  have  not  discovered  the  hun- 
dredth part  of  my  failings.  But  it  is  highly  probable  you 
have  discovered  some  of  which  I  am  ignorant.  I  trust 
you  will  not  needlessly  publish  them  to  others  ;  but  surely 
you  cannot  do  me  a  kinder  act,  than  to  give  me  an  oppor- 
tunity to  reform.  You  know  the  great  object  of  my  life  ; 
and  you  can  easily  avail  yourself  of  the  remarks  of  others 
in  addition  to  your  own  opinion,  in  order  to  admonish  me 
of  my  faults  in  preaching.  You  may  hear  remarks  which 
you  think  unjust,  or  unreasonably  severe.  The  knowl- 
edge of  such  remarks  may  be  the  most  beneficial  to  me  of 
any.  Fear  not  to  wound  my  feelings,  and,  if  occasion  re- 
quire, to  "  chide  me  in  severest  terms."  If  any  thing  that 
I  know  or  think,  can  be  equally  advantageous  to  you,  I 
will  most  gladly  e?.ert  myself  that  it  may  be  at  your  ser- 
vice. 

He  received  his  appointment  as  tutor  while  residing 
with  Dr.  Emmons.  Some  facts  respecting  this  and  other 
incidents  of  the  same  period,  have  been  kindly  forwarded 
to  my  aid,  by  his  former  pupil,  Theron  Metcalf,  Esq. 

Dedham,lth  Oct.  1833. 

Dear  Sir, — I  was  highly  gratified  to  find,  some  weeks 
since,  that  you  were  engaged  in  preparing  a  biographical 
notice  of  your  late  brother.  I  intended  sooner  to  have 
given  you  the  facts  that  I  now  propose  to  relate. 

While  Mr.  Emerson  was  pursuing  his  theological  stud- 
ies with  Dr.  Emmons,  W.  E.,  son  of  the  Rev.  Doctor,  and 
myself,  were  preparing  for  college.  It  became  convenient 
for  us,  and  was  agreeable  to  our  parents  and  your  brother, 
that  he  should  assume  the  direction  of  our  studies.  And 
I  ascribe  whatever  proficiency  1  made  in  early  life,  ami 
whatever  taste  for  classical  literature  I  may  now  have,  ami 
whatever  acquaintance  with  Latin  and  Greek  authors,  pri- 
marily to  his  efforts  and  instruction.  I  doubt  not  my 
friend  E.  would  say  the  same. 


AS    TUTOR, 


65 


Under  your  brother's  very  special  oversight,  and  at  his 
earnest  suggestion,  young  Emmons  and  myself  went 
through  a  course  of  study  far  more  extensive  than  was  re- 
quired for  admission  to  any  college — and  more  extensive 
indeed  than  was  then  prescribed  at  the  colleges  in  general. 
At  the  age  of  sixteen,  we  were  undoubtedly  better  ground- 
ed in  Latin  and  Greek,  and  acquainted  with  more  Latin 
and  Greek  authors,  than  most  graduates.  Still  we  enter- 
ed R.  I.  college  as  freshmen. 

You  will  pardon  this  apparent  boasting,  when  I  assure 
you,  that  it  proceeds  entirely  from  my  respectful  gratitude 
to  my  very  efficient  and  beloved  instructor — of  whom  I 
can  most  truly  say,  (so  far  as  classical  acquirements  are  in 
question,)  that  he  is  the  only  man  who  ever  taught  me  any 
thing.  If  I  ever  gained  any  thing  further  in  that  depart- 
ment of  study,  it  was  wholly  by  my  own  exertions.  Both 
Emmons  and  myself  studied  with  other  preceptors,  before 
and  after  your  brother  went  to  Cambridge  as  tutor. 

I  wish  to  mention  a  fact  somewhat  characteristic  of  your 
brother,  as  you  will  readily  perceive. 

While  he  was  teaching  young  E.  and  myself,  he  went  to 
Boston,  and  remained  two  or  three  days  longer  than  he 
had  told  us  he  should  be  absent.  On  his  return,  he  men- 
tioned to  us,  half  confidentially,  that  President  Willard 
met  him  on  the  steps  of  the  State  House,  while  he  was  in 
Boston,  and  told  him  he  was  (or  might  be — I  forget  which) 
appointed  tutor — and  desired  him  to  accept  or  decline. 
Your  brother  requested  two  days,  I  think,  to  consider  of 
it — and  he  told  us  this  was  the  reason  of  his  not  returning 
to  Franklin  at  the  time  he  had  intended.  He  also  said  he 
had  refused  the  offer,  before  he  left  Boston,  and  spoke 
very  decidedly  of  the  matter,  as  inconsistent  with  all  his 
plans,  and  not  agreeable  to  his  inclinations,  even  if  he  had 
no  other  definite  views.  He  ended  the  conversation  by 
enjoining  entire  silence,  as  it  might  seem  like  vanity  in 
him  to  have  mentioned  the  offer  of  a  tutor's  place  at  Cam- 
bridge. This  was  early  in  the  afternoon,  but  before  night 
he  was  on  his  way  to  Cambridge,  to  recal  his  refusal,  and 
to  accept  the  offer,  and  the  change  in  his  views  seemed  to 
us  to  be  effected  wholly  by  what  I  am  about  to  relate.  At 
any  rate,  we  never  knew  or  suspected  any  other  cause 
for  it. 

6* 


66  MOTIVES    FOR   ACCEPTING 

Emmons  and  myself  had  more  exalted  notions  of  a  tu- 
tor's importance  and  pretensions,  than  any  full  grown  man 
would  'probably  entertain.  We  were  intended  for  R.  I. 
college,  but  had  some  pride,  and  some  belief,  which  your 
brother  had  not  a  little  contributed  to  strengthen,  that 
Cambridge  was  a  much  more  eligible  and  dignified  semir 
nary.  We  therefore  had  indulged  some  lurking  inclina- 
tion to  go  to  Cambridge,  though  we  had  never  expressed  it 
to  others.  We  simultaneously  caught  at  the  notion,  that 
if  Mr.  Emerson  should  be  tutor  there,  our  parents  might 
consent  to  our  following  him — and  we  beset  him  with  our 
unasked  advice,  that  he  would  retract  his  refusal  of  the 
office,  and  almost  promised  him  we  would  go  to  "  Cam- 
bridge college,"  if  he  should  succeed  in  obtaining  the  place 
of  tutor.  And  I  have  no  doubt  that  his  purpose  was 
changed  merely  by  what  we  said  and  predicted.  Towards 
night,  he  told  me  if  I  would  get  his  horse,  and  if  Emmons 
would  do  some  other  small  service  for  him,  he  would  ride 
as  far  as  Medfield  that  evening,  and  the  next  morning  pro- 
ceed to  Cambridge,  and  see  it  it  was  not  too  late  for  him 
to  recant.  And  he  accordingly  did  start,  and  reached  C. 
the  next  forenoon,  and  informed  President  Willard  of  his 
change  of  inclination.  He  told  us,  on  his  return,  that  the 
President  reflected  on  his  "fickleness": — but  finally,  it 
was  settled  that  he  should  take  the  place  of  tutor.  All 
this  was  to  be  kept  a  secret,  if  he  had  not  succeeded. 

The  result  was,  that  we  lost  your  brother's  tuition,  and 
wholly  failed  to  obtain  our  parents'  consent  to  go  to  Cam- 
bridge, to  our  sad  disappointment,  and  to  the  mortification 
and  regret  of  your  brother,  who  had  our  following  him 
much  at  heart.  In  after  years,  however,  he  expressed  his 
gratitude  to  God  that  we  did  not  succeed  in  our  wishes — 
saying  that  the  temptations  of  the  place,  and  the  influ- 
ences exerted  there,  were  enough  to  poison  any  young 
man  ;  and  that  he  rather  wondered  that  any  escaped  con- 
tamination, than  that  so  many  suffered  it. 

While  I  studied  under  your  brother's  care,  his  studies, 
though  ostensibly  theological,  were  chiefly  literary — and  I 
believe  Dr.  E.  was  pretty  severe  on  him  for  his  "scholar- 
ship." 1  know  he  often  rather  intimated  than  declared 
his  dissatisfaction  at  the  wide  range  of  your  brother's 
"projects,"  as  he  used  to  term  them. 


THE    OFFICE.  67 

I  should  like  very  much  to  see  again,  if  it  is  in  exist- 
ence, a  sermon  your  brother  wrote,  while  at  Franklin,  on 
lotteries.  It  purported  to  be  an  election  sermon,  address- 
ed to  the  Legislature,  exhorting  them  to  make  all  lotteries 
unlawful,  and  setting  forth  their  immorality  and  danger  in 
a  much  stronger  light  than  was  usually  deemed  accurate 
in  those  days.     The  text  was  from  Prov.  xvi.  33. 

I  fear  this  communication  will  be  rather  irksome  than 
pleasant  to  you.  It  is  not  drawn  up,  as  I  intended  when 
I  sat  down.  But  as  far  as  it  goes,  it  is  accurate,  and  I 
have  a  mournful  pleasure  in  committing  it,  now  for  the 
first  time,  to  paper.         Respectfully  your  ob't.  serv't. 

Theron  Metcalf. 

This  is  the  strongest  instance  I  have  known  of  a  sud- 
den change  in  my  brother's  course  of  life  ;  and  if  we,  like 
the  good  President,  are  disposed  to  regard  it  as  bearing 
the  aspect  of  fickleness,  yet  we  shall  readily  admit  that, 

'Even  his  failing  leaned  to  virtue's  side.' 

Doubtless  he  felt,  as  he  appears  always  to  have  done  to- 
wards affectionate  and  successful  pupils,  an  inexpressible 
delight  in  the  welfare  of  the  young  men,  whose  minds  he 
had  been  firing  with  the  love  of  knowledge.  Filled  with 
such  emotion,  and  seeing  the  opening  prospect  of  chang- 
ing their  destination  for  what  he  then  regarded  as  greatly 
the  better,  and  of  having  them  about  him  for  years  to 
come,  it  is  not  very  strange  that  the  tutorial  office  should 
lose  its  forbidding  aspect,  and  assume  a  new  charm 
to  his  eye.  The  clear  prospect  of  essential  benefit  to  a 
single  individual,  always  had  a  powerful  effect  on  his 
mind.  Hence  I  have  frequently  known  him  spend  time 
and  exhaust  energies  that  he  could  but  ill  afford  from  more 
general  calls  of  duty,  in  very  animated  conversation  with 
seme  lover  of  knowledge  that  might  fall  in  his  way  ; — and 
that  person  perhaps  a  stranger  whom  he  had  scarcely  seen 
before  or  could  expect  to  see  again.  But  while  this  was 
strikingly  true  of  him,  it  is  equally  true  that  he  seemed  not 
very  affable  to  strangers,  unless  they  disclosed  a  desire 
and  an  aptness  either  to  receive  or  to  impart  instruction  ; 
and  sometimes,  though  not  designedly,  he  appeared  to 
treat  them  with  neglect  or  coldness.  The  truth  is,  he 
had  neither  the  talent  nor  the  inclination  to  that  species  of 


68  DEPORTMENT    AS    TUTOR. 

"  small  talk,"  by  which  many  render  themselves  so  affable 
and  agreeable  in  their  transient  intercourse.  Bat  to  re* 
turn  to  his  two  pupils.  Though  sorely  disappointed  in 
his  hope  of  having  them  at  his  college,  he  was  afterwards 
Consoled,  not  merely  in  their  escape  from  its  temptations, 
above  referred  to,  but  in  their  continued  and  unrivalled 
success  in  the  studies  of  their  class,  as  it  appeared  at  the 
end  of  their  college  course. 

One  thing  which  I  happen  to  know  as  peculiarly  disa- 
greeable to  him  in  the  thought  of  being  a  tutor,  was  the 
extreme  distance  and  reserve,  so  scrupulously  maintained 
in  those  days  between  the  officers  and  the  students  of  the 
college.  Perhaps  on  more  mature  reflection,  it  occurred 
to  him,  that  it  would  be  in  some  measure  at  his  option, 
whether  he  should  clothe  himself  with  the  same  austere 
and  troublesome  dignity.  Be  this  as  it  may,  he  certainly 
did  not  give  himself  this  trouble,  nor  inflict  this  self-denial 
on  his  social  feelings.  The  result  was,  if  tradition  be 
true,  that  he  gained  peculiarly  the  affections,  without  los- 
ing the  respect  of  the  students.  He  took  care,  however, 
to  be  complete  master  of  the  branches  he  taught ;  and  his 
very  nature  prompted  him  to  teach  with  all  his  soul,  and 
do  what  good  he  could.  This  was  enough,  without  stand- 
ing for  punctilios  of  etiquette;  and  his  time  passed  pleas- 
antly and  usefully  away,  in  a  station  which  might  have 
become  beyond  measure  irksome  by  a  different  course. 
By  making  himself  at  home,  in  that  seat  of  ancient  digni- 
ty, and  all  about  him  at  home,  it  became  a  home  to  him. 

But  while  deeply  engaged  in  science,  it  is  pleasing  to 
remark,  from  one  pciiod  to  another,  his  manifest  growth 
in  devotion  to  the  sacred  cause  to  which  he  had  consecrated 
his  existence.  Ilis  direct  appeals  to  those  about  him,  on 
the  subject  of  religion,  were  perhaps  not  very  frequent, 
nor  were  they  so  in  after  life  ;  but  they  were  certainly 
very  affectionate  and  earnest,  and  always  timely.  I  sub- 
join the  following,  as  a  specimen  of  his  correspondence 
with  his  younger  relatives. 

Cambridge,  Nov.  7,   1 

My  dear  Brother  R. — I  understand  you  are  unwell; 
I  hope  however,  you  are  not  very  sick.  It  is  an  uncom- 
mon thing  for  you  to  be  sick.  You  should  remember, 
that  sudden  deaths  are  more  frequent  among  persons,  who 


FAITHFUL    WARNINGS.  OU 

generally  enjoy  good  health,  than  among  persons  who  are 
weakly  and  often  indisposed.  And  if  you  are  now  a  little 
out  of  health,  you  have  a  good  time  to  consider  of  these 
tilings.  This  opportunity,  I  hope,  you  will  not  let  pass 
unimproved.  I  hope  you  will  consider  and  realize,  not 
only  that  human  life  is  but  a  vapor,  and  the  graves  are 
ready  for  us,  but  also  the  vast  importance  of  being  pre- 
pared to  meet  your  God  ;  and  not  only  consider  the  im- 
portance of  being  prepared  for  so  solemn  a  meeting,  but 
also  give  yourself  up  to  God  in  an  everlasting  covenant, 
and  hold  yourself  in  actual  readiness  for  the  coming  of 
the  Lord  Jesus.  Do  you  not  sometimes  think  of  these 
things?  Has  religion  no  charms ?  Or  does  the  word  of  God 
appear  to  you  a  fable — a  small  matter,  unworthy  to  en- 
gage your  attention  ?  Is  the  salvation  by  Jesus  Christ  a 
small  salvation  ?  Is  it  unworthy  of  your  contemplation;  is 
it  unworthy  of  your  study  ;  is  it  unworthy  of  your  love? 
My  dear  brother,  the  angels  desire  to  look  into  these 
tilings;  and  how  shall  we  escape  if  we  neglect  so  great 
salvation?  Do  you  begin  to  make  excuses?  Are  you  too 
young  to  be  religious?  Will  it  expose  you  to  the  ridicule 
and  contempt  of  your  mates  ?  Will  it  deprive  you  of  earthly 
comforts  ?  Do  you  really  doubt,  whether  Christ's  yoke  is 
easy,  or  his  burden  light?  I  entreat  you  not  to  think  light- 
ly of  these  things;  not  to  put  far  away  the  evil  day ;  not  to 
flatter  yourself  with  the  expectation  of  long  life.  All  I 
can  do  for  you  is  to  warn  and  to  pray  for  you,  whether 
you  will  hear  or  whether  you  will  forbear.  Do  be  kind 
enough  to  write  immediately  to  your  affectionate  brother 

JosEnr, 

To  one  of  his  former  pupils,  he  thus  writes  : 

Cambridge,  Nov.  11,  1801. 

I  have  often  had  it  in  contemplation  to  address  you  by 
epistle,  and  solicit  a  correspondence.  Notwithstanding 
the  great  enlargement  and  the  increased  importance  of  my 
sphere  of  action;  notwithstanding  the  new  acquaintances, 
that  I  have  formed,  and  all  the  new  scenes,  that  from  day 
to  day  are  opening  to  my  delighted  view  ;  still  I  have  not 
forgotten  my  old  friends.  I  still  cherish  the  same  emo- 
tions towards  those,  who  appeared  once  so  happy  and  re- 
spectful  under   my  tuition,  as  when  they  were  eagerly 


70  FIXED    HABITS    EVEN 

listening  to  my  instructions.  I  consider  their  time  as  val- 
uable, their  improvement  as  important,  their  souls  as  pre- 
cious, as  I  did  then.  Though  they  may  forget  me,  I  trust 
they  will  always  occupy  a  place  in  my  memory  and  heart. 
I  hope  ever  to  feel  willing  to  exert  myself  for  their  advan- 
tage. As  circumstances  forbid  that  I  should  often  see 
them  face  to  face,  it  is  a  great  consolation,  that  I  can  hold 
converse  with  some  of  them  through  the  medium  of  writ- 
ten communications. 

If  you  should  conclude  to  grant  my  request,  I  hope 
you  will  be  very  particular  in  mentioning  the  books  and 
subjects,  that  have  lately  engaged  your  attention,  together 
with  your  opinion  upon  them.  I  shall  be  happy,  if  I  can 
assist  you  by  communicating  my  thoughts  upon  almost 
any  subject  you  may  desire.  Framingham  news  is  always 
acceptable.  You  cannot  want  matter  to  fill  as  long  an 
epistle  as  you  will  have  patience  to  write.  But  especially 
I  should  like  to  know  your  opinions,  feelings,  or  difficul- 
ties upon  religion.  This  should  be  the  great  concern  of 
all. 

My  present  situation  is  perhaps,  on  the  whole,  the  most 
agreeable  that  I  ever  enjoyed.  Not  to  mention  other  cir- 
cumstances, it  is  peculiarly  favorable  to  the  acquisition  of 
knowledge  and  of  property.  Though  I  can  truly  say, 
that  money  is  not  my  great  object,  yet  a  library  worth  a 
thousand  dollars,  together  with  some  other  conveniences 
of  a  literary  life,  appear  highly  desirable,  and  worthy  of 
considerable  exertion  to  be  procured,  provided  we  can  at 
the  same  time  be  doing  good  to  the  -world. 

From  another  letter,  I  extract  the  following  : 

Ca?nbnd^e,  Nov.  20,  1801, 

As  we  are  endowed  with  reason,  it  becomes  us  to 
act  as  rational  beings  in  all  our  conduct ;  and  if  there 
be  a  best  way  in  matters  however  trifling,  invariably  to 
adopt  it.  Without  offering  any  arguments  in  support  of 
my  remark  upon  the  formation  of  esses,  I  leave  you  to 
reason,  conclude,  and  act  for  yourself.  And  here  by  the 
way  I  will  just  observe,  that  I  have  lately  been  struck  with 
the  importance  of  examining  and  adjusting  many  mat- 
ters which  a  few  years  ago  scarcely  ever  came  into  my 
mind  as  worthy  of  notice.     As  man   has  been  defined  a 


IN    SMALL    TniNGS.  71 

bundle  of  habits,  it  seems  of  great  consequence  that  we 
should  pay  attention  to  the  formation  of  our  habits,  es- 
pecially those  which  regulate  some  part  of  our  conduct 
almost  every  day  and  every  hour.  Perhaps  you  are  insen- 
sible, with  how  much  more  decency,  and  in  how  much 
better  order  things  may  be  done  in  this  way ;  not  to  men- 
tion the  saving  of  time,  that  might  thus  be  effected. 
Upon  the  above  principle,  I  always  keep  my  handkerchief 
in  my  left  pocket,  hang  my  hat  up  on  a  particular  nail, 
have  a  particular  manner  to  lock  or  unlock,  bar  or  unbar 
my  door,  etc.  In  a  very  short  time  such  things  become 
so  habitual,  that  they  are  performed  with  very  little 
thought,  or  interruption  to  the  train  of  ideas,  that  may 
engage  the  mind.  In  this  way  it  happens,  that  I  am 
never  put  to  the  trouble  and  vexation  of  spending  two 
or  three  minutes  in  looking  for  my  hat,  nor  to  unlock  my 
door,  when  in  haste  to  discharge  some  duty  of  my  office. 
Perhaps  you  will  smile  at  the  mention  of  these  things, 
and  think  me  disposed  "to  be  merry  a  little  unseason- 
ably ;"  but,  be  assured,  I  am  in  earnest,  I  am  serious. 
There  are  three  practical  rules  which  should  regulate  all 
our  actions.  Every  thing  should  be  done  at  the  best  time; 
in  the  best  manner;  and  with  the  greatest  possible  dis- 
patch that  may  be  consistent  with  the  two  first  rules. 
With  regard  to  the  best  time,  that  is,  with  regard  to 
punctuality,  I  could  say  much  in  its  praise.  Perhaps  it 
is  more  highly  important  to  our  sex,  than  to  yours.  To 
your  sex,  however,  it  may  be  of  more  importance  than  you 
ever  imagined.  I  leave  and  recommend  it,  as  a  subject,  on 
which  you  may  "pause  and  ponder"  to  great  advantage. 
But  how  shall  we  proceed  in  order  to  do  every  thing  in 
the  best  manner,  with  the  greatest  punctuality,  and  dis- 
patch ?  In  writing,  after  making  one  letter,  shall  we  stop 
to  consider  the  best  manner  of  making  the  next?  Shall 
we  always  stop  to  "  think  twice  before  we  speak  once?" 
Were  this  the  case  with  mankind,  there  would  be  much 
less  said,  than  there  is  now  ;  words  would  be  heard  at  such 
a  distance  from  each  other,  as  to  render  the  sense  very 
difficult  to  be  taken ;  and  perhaps  there  would  be  some 
persons,  who  would  not  speak  more  than  once  a  day,  if 
at  all.  In  walking,  shall  we,  after  taking  one  step,  pause 
and  compare  circumstances,  and  reason  in  order  to  ascer- 
tain the  best  manner  of  taking  the  next?  What  time 
would  be  requisite  to  make  a  garment,  should  you   stop 


Tli  FORMATION    OF    GOOD    HABITS. 

at  every  stitch,  and  debate  in  your  own  mind  upon  the 
most  proper  and  expeditious  method  of  taking  the  next  ? 
But  these  are  distinct  actions.  Of  such  actions,  or  per- 
haps, strictly  speaking,  of  those,  which  are  much  more 
minute  and  insignificant,  the  whole  of  our  external  con- 
duct is  composed.  So  far  as  these  actions  are  not  per- 
formed in  the  best  manner,  so  Air  our  external  con- 
duct is  imperfect.  If  we  neglect  all  the  parts,  the  whole 
is  neglected.  There  is  unquestionably  some  mode  of  tak- 
ing stitches  which  is  better  than  some  other  mode ;  and 
she  must  be  the  best  seamstress  who,  other  circumstan- 
ces being  equal,  takes  stitches  in  the  best  manner.  The 
same  observation  may  apply  to  every  manual  employment. 
But  how  shall  we  perform  these  minute  actions  in  the 
best  manner,  since  it  is  absolutely  impossible  for  us  to 
reason  concerning  each  of  them  distinctly  1  I  answer, 
we  must  be  philosophers.  We  must  consult  the  faculties 
and  capacities  with  which  the  God  of  nature  has  kindly 
endowed  us.    These  as  they  relate  to  the  point  in  view,  are 

(Nov.  Mtk,  11  l-'2  P.M.) 
the  faculty  of  reasoning  and  the  capacity  of  forming  hab- 
its. We  must  therefore  consult  our  reason,  until  by  the 
help  of  a  little  experience,  barely  enough  to  try  different 
ways,  we  ascertain  the  best  modes  of  operating,  and  then 
practice  these  modes  of  operation  until  they  become 
consolidated  into  the  most  inveterate  habits.  This, 
I  humbly  conceive,  is  the  way  to  become  a  thinker. 
It  will  require  the  closest  thought  upon  every  subject, 
and  thinking  in  time  will  become  habitual.  This  is  one 
of  the  best  and  rarest  habits  ever  formed  by  females. 
The  above  mentioned  is  the  way  to  become  a  practical 
philosopher,  (much  better  than  a  mere  theoretic,)  a  prac- 
tical christian,  a  benefactor  to  the  world,  an  ornament 
to  the  human  name.     "Think  on  these  things." 

I  began  this  letter  four  days  ago.  Such  are  the  duties 
of  my  station,  that  I  am  sometimes  obliged  to  break  off 
in  the  middle  of  letters,  and  even  of  sentences,  to  my  dear- 
est friends.  But  it  is  much  better  to  write  to  one's  friends 
in  this  way,  than  not  to  write  at  all.  Is  it  not  ?  I  am 
tolerably  punctual,  notwithstanding.  Saturday,  I  went  to 
Beverly;  Sunday,  preached.  Yesterday  and  to-day.  I  have 
been  writing  a  long  thanksgiving  sermon,  which  I  have 
just  completed,  James  i.  17.     I  write  just   as   my  ideas 


DEPRAVITY DIFFIDENCE.  73 

happen  to  arise. — Later  than  I  commonly  sit  up. — Sleepy 
— Good  night. 

Nov.  25. 
Have  you  any  determinate  idea  of  the  meaning  of  the 
terms  depravity,  regeneration,  grace  ?  Do  you  believe 
that  we  "  must  be  born  again,"  in  order  to  see  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  If  you  can  get  clear  and  just  ideas  of 
depravity,  it  will  unlock  the  whole  system  of  religion,  as 
it  respects  the  abovementioned  subjects. 

The  following  is  to  Miss  B.  E. 

Cambridge,  Nov.  30,  1801. 

The  person,  who  cannot  endure  frankness,  is  not  the 
correspondent,  is  not  the  friend  for  me.  Why  should  pil- 
grims travel  through  the  world  together  without  mutual 
acquaintance?  Though  1  may  know  some  things  which 
duty  requires  that  I  should  not  divulge,  yet  I  appeal  to 
the  Searcher  of  hearts,  whether  I  am  not  willing  my  soul 
should  be  known  to  my  fellow  mortals,  (rather  immortals.) 
But  the  coldness  of  reserve  must  chill  every  fibre  of  the 
feeling  heart.  Though  I  do  not  profess  greater  sensibility, 
than  many  others,  yet  I  cannot  endure  reserve. 

With  regard  to  diffidence,  I  know  what  it  is.  1  have 
felt  it ;  I  have  felt  severely.  It  is  a  most  cruel  companion. 
Envy  itself  is  scarcely  more  tormenting.  I  could  tell  you 
its  disadvantages.  And  what,  you  may  think  strange,  1 
could  mention  its  advantages.  I  have  experienced  them 
both.  I  will  not  now  write  a  disquisition  upon  this  sub- 
ject, but  only  remark,  that  diffidence  is  not,  I  know  it 
is  not,  invincible. 

I  would  not  discourage,  yet  I  cannot  forbear  to  remind 
you,  that  '  he  that  thinketh  he  standeth  should  take  heed 
lest  he  fall.'  Persons  really  religious  will  take  delight  in 
religion.  But  if  you  read  the  fifty  eighth  chapter  of 
Isaiah,  and  the  parable  of  the  sower,  not  to  mention  other 
similar  passages,  you  will  be  convinced,  that  persons  may 
take  a  kind  of  satisfaction  in  meditating  upon  religion, 
who  are  not  really  religious. 

Many  of  these  letters  to  his  former  pupils,  are  much 
occupied  with  friendly  criticism  on  their  epistles  to  him, 
and  remarks  adapted  to  the  peculiar  case  of  each   indi- 

7 


74  MRS.  STEELE. 

vidual.  This  was  a  great  object  of  the  correspondence. 
But  however  important  in  themselves,  and  however  inter- 
esting these  remarks  might  now  be  to  such  as  are  seeking 
improvement  in  the  art  of  composition,  we  cannot  make 
room  for  them  here. 

To  another,  he  thus  writes. 

Cambridge,  March  14,  1802. 

Perhaps  you  have  given  up  the  expectation,  I  will  not 
say  the  -hope,  of  ever  receiving  another  line  from  your  old 
friend,  who  once  rejoiced  to  think  himself  your  instruc- 
tor; who  has  spent  so  many  happy  hours  in  attempting  to 
unfold  your  faculties  by  leading  your  mind  into  the  knowl- 
edge— into  the  love  of  literature  and  of  religion.  My 
pleasure  in  doing  this  was  the  greater,  because  I  felt  it 
was  mutual.  Indeed  such  delight  have  I  found  in  teach- 
ing others,  that  I  am  now  in  doubt  whether  I  have  felt 
most  satisfaction  in  acquiring  knowledge  myself,  or  in 
communicating  it  to  eager  minds.-  And  I  trust  through 
the  divine  blessing  I  have  not  always  labored  in  vain — 
that  I  have  not,  in  every  instance,  spent  my  strength  for 
naught. 

Perhaps  it  is  superfluous  for  me  to  assure  you,  that  I 
always  have  addressed  you  with  the  feelings  of  an  in- 
structor— of  a  friend — of  a  brother — of  a  fellow  traveller 
to  eternity.  Whether  I  shall  ever  address  any  female 
with  additional  feelings  and  designs,  perhaps  no  created 
being  can  form  a  rational  conjecture.  But  I  do  take 
pleasure  in  writing  to  my  friends. 

This  morning  I  opened  Belknap's  collection  of  Psalms 
and  Hymns,  in  order  to  read  a  little  sacred  poetry.  As 
I  have  a  great  fondness  for  the  writings  of  Mrs.  Steele,  I 
confined  my  reading  principally  to  her  hymns.  I  read 
one,  and  another,  and  another,  almost  every  one  appear- 
ing better  than  the  preceding.  When  I  had  read  about 
thirty,  I  shut  the  book  with  a  kind  of  melancholy,  tran- 
sporting admiration.  Melancholy  1 — Yes,  N.  a  melancholy 
transport.  It  seemed  to  be  too  great  a  luxury  to  enjoy 
alone.  I  most  ardently  wished  for  the  presence  of  one  or 
two  sentimental  females,  with  whom  I  might  read,  with 
whom  I  might  admire  the  pious,  the  melting  effusions  of 
an  angelic  soul.  In  my  heart  I  could  not  help  exclaim- 
ing, "  How  happy  must  be  the  man,  who  can  style  him- 


MRS.  STEELE.  75 

self  her  husband ;  if  he  have  a  particle  of  taste,  an  atom 
of  devotion !  Alas !  it  may  be,  that  he  is  destitute  of 
both.  Such  strange  inconsistencies,  such  dreadful  in- 
congruities, such  heterogeneous  beings  are  sometimes 
united  by  the  bands  of  law.  The  contact,  the  mixture 
of  congenial  souls — of  souls  mutually  attracting  and  at- 
tracted— is  friendship — is  the  first  ingredient  of  love. 
But  when  minds  of  different  mould  are  forced,  are  fet- 
tered together,  how  strong,  how  dreadful  the  repulsion  ! 
It  may  be,  that  this  unrivalled  poetess  is  condemned  to 
drudge  through  this  life  with  a  man  who  is  blind  to  the 
diamond  of  her  intelligence,  even  when  it  shines  with 
the  greatest  lustre — insensible  to  the  flame  of  her  devo- 
tion, though  rising  with  the  songs  of  angels  and  sister 
spirits  to  the  throne  of  God. 

"  What  pity,  that  so  delicate"  a  soul, 

The  seat  of  so  much  piety  and  taste, 

Where  virtues,  more  than  human  seem  to  dwell, 

Should  for  a  moment,  though  on  earth,  be  tied 

To  a  cold  mass  of  apathy  and  vice  ! 

Should  be  condemned  to  journey,  hand  in  hand, 

Willi  one  who  never  dreampt  of  heavenly  bliss; 

Nor  felt,  nor  saw,  nor  thought  a  single  charm 

In  converse  or  with  angels,  or  with  God; 

Whose  soul,  incased  within  its  narrow  self, 

Ne'er  strays  beyond  its  bottle,  or  its  meal. 

O  what  a  loss  of  happiness  on  earth, 

If  aught  that's  here  below  deserve  the  name, 

When  hands  are  joined,  but  hearts  cannot  unite. 

To  him,  who  sees  a  God  in  all  he  sees, 

Whose  every  nerve  will  vibrate  at  the  touch 

Of  beauty,  offspring  of  the  great  Supreme, 

To  him  how  dear,  by  him  how  highly  prized 

The  image  of  his  God,  a  female  soul 

Whose  every  fibre  God  himself  has  tuned 

To  harmonize  with  his  !  With  her  'tis  joy, 

Such  joy  as  solitude  can  never  yield, 

To  sit,  to  smile,  and  silently  to  muse  ; 

With  her  'tis  joy  to  read,  converse,  admire  ; 

With  her  by  moon  light,  or  the  smiling  gems 

Of  heaven,  where  Philomel  or  silence  holds 

An  unmolested  reign,   'tis  joy  to  walk 

To  some  small  eminence  that  lifts  its  head 

Above  the  lake,  the  rill,  the  field,  the  grove, 

And  view  the  beauties  spread  on  every  side, 

And  feel  the  beauties  that  adorn  her  mind ! 

With  her  'tis  joy  to  weep,  and  to  adore 

Is  transport;  never  tasted  by  the  world. 


76  MRS.  STEELE. 

But  who  can  hear  the  music  of  her  tongue. 
Her  evening  pean,  or  her  morning  vow, 
Without  emotion  ?     Who  that  has  one  nerve 
Of  flesh,  one  fibre  not  of  adamant, 
But  melts  to  hear  her  sing  ?     What  then  must  be 
His  joy,  whose  soul,  allied  to  hers,  can  join 
The  songstress,  and  augment  the  mutual  joy  ! 
Who  then  can  guess  the  raptures  he  must  feel 
Who  in  the  songstress  views  th'  accomplish'd  wife-, 
The  object  of  his  heart,  himself  of  hers  ? 
His  hopes,  his  fears,  his  wishes,  and  his  prayers 
Are  hers,  and  hers  are  his ;  they  mingling  rise 
Through  the  great  Savior  to  the  Judge  of  all. 

April  I. 
I  will  sketch  to  you,  N.,  the  history  of  this  very  im- 
perfect, inaccurate  scrawl,  which,  had  I  time,  I  might 
transcribe  and  correct.  I  felt  in  a  writing  mood,  seized 
my  pen  and  addressed  a  few  hasty  lines  to  you,  uncertain 
whether  I  should  ever  send  them.  When  I  had  got  about 
halfway  down  the  third  page,  it  came  into  my  head  to 
quote  a  few  lines  of  Thompson,  with  such  alterations  as 
the  subject  required.  This  quotation,  you  perceive,  ends 
with  the  fifth  line.  I  had  no  thoughts  of  proceeding  any 
farther  when  I  began.  But  here  concluding  not  to  send  the 
letter,  I  thought  I  would  make  one  experiment  at  writing 
blank  verse,  as  I  had  never  attempted  it  before.  I  pro- 
ceeded, until  I  was  tired,  and  threw  it  altogether  into 
my  table  drawer,  where  it  has  remained  undisturbed  till 
to  day.  I  send  it,  not  that  I  think  its  intrinsic  merit 
demands  your  attention,  but  as  it  may  possibly  afford  you 
a  few  moments  amusement. 

Again  to  Miss  B.  E. 

Cambridge.  March  30,  1802. 

Yours  of  January  1G,  is  before  me.  Three  months  and 
a  half!  a  long  time  for  a  letter  from  a  female  to  remain 
unanswered. 

You  have  not  seen,  nor  heard  me  preaching  at  Fra- 
mingham.  You  probably  have  not  heard  a  syllable  from 
me  for  nearly  eight  weeks.  When  I  took  a  painful  leave 
of  your  family,  I  did  expect  you  would  see  my  face  again 
before  now.  Poor  ignorant  beings  of  a  moment  !  We 
know  not  what  a  day  or  a  month  will  bring  forth.  The 
time  of  my  preaching  at  F.  seems  farther  distant,  than  it 


MISCELLANEOUS.  77 

did,  when  I  left  you.     But  be  assured,  as  soon  as  may  be, 
I  shall  open  my  mouth,  though  not  in  parables,  to  a  peo- 
ple with  whom  I  have  so  frequently  assembled  to  worship 
in  the  temple  of  God — to  a  people,  among  whom  I  num- 
ber some  of  my  firmest,  warmest,  dearest  friends.     Should 
I  attempt  to  make  excuse  for  so  long  neglecting  to  write, 
I  might  say,  that  my  college  duties   have   been  numerous 
and  pressing — that  I  have  been  out  of  health — that  since 
I  left  you,  I  have  numbered  some  of  the   most  unhappy 
hours,  days  and   even   weeks  of  my  life.      To-day  how- 
ever, (April  1,)  I  am  better,  I   am   happy,  notwithstand- 
ing the  gloomy  and  frowning  aspect  of  the  weather.     My 
spirits  are  so  far  from  rising  and  falling  with  fair  and  foul 
weather,  that  I  often  feel  best,  when   every  body  else  is 
complaining  of  the  weather.     I  feel  best,  Eliza,  when  I 
can  resignedly  and  affectionately  contemplate  the  glorious 
Author  of  my  being.     Here,  here  alone   there  is  joy  that 
is   worthy  of  the   name.     In  your   shor*,  short  letter   you 
have  said  something  upon  religion.     I   will  just  mention 
one  of  my  sentiments,  in  which  I   differ  from  many.     If 
I  did  not  believe  the  bible,  I   should  believe   death  to  be 
an  eternal  sleep.     What  think  you  of  that?     Do  express 
your  ideas  and  feelings  without  reserve.     You  may  write 
upon   religion,    upon    books,    upon  literature,  etc.      But 
such  need  not  be  your  only  subjects.     Nothing  relating  to 
the  happiness  of  my  friends  in  F. — of  your  father's  family 
in  particular,  can  fail   of  being  interesting  to  me.     Tell 
me  how  they  do,  what  they  do,  what  they  say,  etc.     Let 
the  pages  of  your  letter  be  wings,  by  which   I   may  fly  to 
your   fireside.     Our   opportunities  of  conversing   face   to 
face    are   rare.     Do  try  to  let  me   have   the   pleasure  of 
seeming  to  converse  with  you,  while  I   read  your  letters. 
Though  I  feel  myself  deficient  in  this  respect,  yet  I  wish 
you  to  do  better.     When  you  write  to  me,  forget  you  were 
ever  a  member  of  my  school.    For  a  while,  let  the  instruc- 
tor be  left  in  the  friend.     Write  to  me  as  you  would  write 
to  an  equal  friend — as  you  would   to  a   brother  or   sister. 
Avoid  studying  your  expressions  too  much  while  you  are 
writing.     They  may    be   corrected  afterwards,  if  neces- 
sary. 

You  and  your  sisters   are  highly  favored.     Your  father 
gives  you  time   and  opportunity  to  improve  your  minds, 
and  takes  peculiar  satisfaction  in   your   progress.      He 
7* 


78  FEEBLE    HEALTH. 

sees,  he  rejoices,  that  you  are  disposed  to  improve  your 
privileges.  Be  not  weary  in  well  doing.  Go  on  unto  per- 
fection. Retired  from  the  busy  world,  it  is  the  duty  of 
each  to  assist  the  rest.  Enjoy  with  thanksgiving  what 
the  God  of  nature  is  putting  into  your  possession.  Re- 
joice in  each  other's  society ;  rejoice  in  each  other's  im- 
provement. If  convenient,  spend  one,  two,  or  three  hours 
every  day  in  reading,  one  to  the  rest.     Farewell. 

The  next  is  to  another  of  the  sisters  composing  this 
family  circle. 

Cambridge,  June  9,  1802. 

N. — You  do  me  honor  in  considering  my  correspond- 
ence a  privilege.  If  I  have  ever  been  instrumental  of 
improving  your  mind,  or  contributing  to  your  innocent 
and  rational  enjoyments,  I  desire  to  be  thankful  to  Him^ 
who  has  put  it  in  my  power.  I  must  caution  you  however 
against  expecting  much  satisfaction  or  advantage  from 
my  future  communications.  My  constitution  is  exceed- 
ingly feeble,  and  my  health  much  impaired.  What  is  to 
be  my  future  portion  in  this  life,  I  am  ignorant.  I  am 
not  very  unhappy.  It  is  matter  of  joy,  that  all  things  are 
under  the  direction  of  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness.  I 
hope  I  am  prepared  for  any  event.  I  have  not  those  ties 
to  the  world,  that  I  possibly  might  have  by  a  few  years 
continuance,  and  perhaps  it  is  better  for  me  to  depart 
now.  My  mother  is  dead,  and  I  should  leave  no  con- 
nection more  tender  than  a  father,  to  cherish  my  memory. 
Think  not,  that  I  am  delirious,  though  I  thus  write.  I 
hope  never  to  relax  my  exertions  to  do  good,  while  I  am 
continued  in  the  world.  I  trust  the  contemplation  of 
death  will  not  tend  to  accelerate  its  progress,  nor  dimin- 
ish either  my  happiness  or  usefulness.  Does  it  not  be- 
come us,  as  rational,  accountable,  dying  creatures,  oc- 
casionally to  lift  the  veil  of  time,  and  look  into  the  other 
world  ?  Our  fathers,  where  are  they  ;  and  the  prophet?, 
do  they  live  forever  1 

I  long  to  see  my  friends  at  F.  I  hope  your  next  will 
not  be  shorter.     Farewell. 

To  his  Father. 

Cambridge,  Aug.  IS,  1802. 
My  last  visit  at   Holies  was  uncommonly  agreeable   to 
myself,  and,  I  trust,  greatly  contributed  to  confirm  my 


TOUR   TO    GRANVILLE.  79 

health.  Since  my  return  to  Cambridge,  I  have  been  able 
to  pursue  my  studies,  and  attend  to  college  duties,  with  no 
small  satisfaction.  Last  Sabbath  I  preached  at  Lynn,  in 
the  parish  of  Mr.  Roby,  whose  age  and  infirmities  seem  to 
have  terminated  his  ministerial  labors.  1  have  engaged 
to  supply  them  three  Sabbaths  more  ;  the  last  of  which 
will  be  in  the  vacation.  Afterwards,  it  is  my  determin- 
ation to  visit  Providence,  New-Haven,  Conway,  Granville, 
etc.  I  hope  my  friends  at  Holies  will  write  to  sister  Hall, 
and  send  the  letters  to  me  at  commencement  time.  I 
shall  have  time  to  stay  but  a  few  days  at  Granville ;  and 
shall  return  by  the  way  of  Holies,  and  stay  a  night  or  two 
if  possible. 

Mr.  Hill  brings  good  tidings.  I  began  to  fear  that  God 
was  about  to  cease  from  his  mighty  and  marvellous  works 
among  you.  The  friends  of  religion  have  reason  to  re- 
joice that,  in  so  many  places  in  our  land,  there  is  evidence 
that  the  Lord  still  remembereth  his  Zion. 
Your  dutiful  and  affectionate  son, 

Joseph  Emerson. 

Again,  to  Miss  N.  E. 

Cambridge,  Nov.  16,  1802. 

What  shall  I  say  to  you,  N.  1  Why,  by  want  of  some- 
thing more  instructive  and  agreeable,  I  will  say  that  I  am 
sick ;  yet  not  sick  of  living,  not  sick  of  my  profession  or 
office,  not  sick  of  my  friends  ;  much  less  am  I  sick  of  re- 
ceiving and  perusing  your  letters  ;  nor  indeed  am  I  very 
sick  of  any  thing.  I  am  still  able  to  perform  college 
duties  with  a  considerable  degree  of  satisfaction,  though 
in  some  measure  afflicted  with  a  cold  and  cough. 

Nov.  22. — My  indisposition  increasing,  compelled  me 
to  suspend  the  "  delightful  task,"  before  I  had  completed 
a  single  page.  I  am  far  from  being  well  at  present.  I 
was  so  unwell  yesterday,  that  it  is  uncertain  whether  I 
should  have  attended  public  worship,  unless  I  had  been 
under  obligations  to  preach  ;  but  I  was  probably  less  in- 
jured by  preaching  than  I  should  have  been  by  merely 
hearing. 

I  am  gratified  with  your  frankness  upon  religion.  If  I 
rightly  understand  your  letter,  you  seem  to  entertain  some 
hope  that  you  are  a  child  of  God,  in  the  highest  sense  of 


80  TO    MISS    N.    EATON. 

the  phrase.  I  will  not  venture  to  encourage  you  in  your 
hope  ;  neither  will  I  damp  your  feelings  by  saying  that  I 
think  your  hope  unfounded.  You  will,  however,  excuse, 
and,  if  you  please,  answer  one  query.  If  you  entertain  a 
prevailing  hope  that  you  belong  to  the  invisible  family  of 
Christ  on  earth,  what  has  hindered  you  from  publicly 
naming  his  name,  and  uniting  with  his  visible  church  ? 

From  the  many  examples  you  have  had  of  my  long  let- 
ters, you  must  suppose  that  it  is  with  reluctance  that  I  bid 
you  farewell.  Joseph  Emerson. 

The  next  brief  extract  is  from  a  communication  to  the 
same  friend,  delivered  a  week  or  two  after  it  was  written, 
by  his  own  hand,  (as  will  soon  appear,)  and  in  connection 
with  an  additional  letter  on  the  same  subject. 

Cambridge,  Dec.  8,  1802. 

Dear  N. — This  letter  begins  our  correspondence  on  a 
new  foundation;  or  closes  it — perhaps  forever.  I  address 
you  in  a  new  style,  with  new  motives,  and  upon  a  new 
subject :  yet,  N ,  a  subject  to  me  in  reality  new. 


Here  I  think  it  best  abruptly  to  stop,  in  respect  to  this 
portion  of  his  communications,  though  sufficiently  fraught 
with  historic  matter.  Should  any  one  be  at  a  loss  as  to 
the  general  import  and  object  of  these  letters,  thus  sup- 
pressed, his  doubt  will  be  removed  by  the  following  equally 
brief  extract  from  the  reply  of  Miss  E. 

*****  "  Had  not  these  letters  been  presented  by  your 
own  hand,  T  should  nlmost  have  supposed  them  counter- 
feit. But  I  now  believe  these  lines  to  be  the  traces  of 
your  pen,  and  must  think  them  the  language  of  your  heart; 
for  1  have  ever  considered  my  faithful  instructor  to  be  as 
perfectly  sincere  as  it  is  possible  a  mortal  can  be."  ***** 

But  enough.  Whatever  an  idle  curiosity  might  demand, 
here  is  not  the  place  to  gratify  such  a  curiosity  :  nor  do  I, 
on  the  whole,  think  it  the  place  to  exhibit  an  example  of 
such  a  correspondence,  conducted  on  strictly  christian 
principles,  nil  with  the  most  pure,  and  rational,  and.ele- 
vated  views  and  aims.     I  shall,  therefore,  confine  my  ex- 


HIS    PREACHING.  81 

tracts  from  this  correspondence,  to  the  occasional  notices 
it  may  contain  of  facts  and  feelings  on  other  topics.  Suf- 
fice it  here  to  say,  that  this  correspondence  continued 
without  interruption,  and  with  an  ardent  and  increasing 
attachment,  till  Miss  Nancy  Eaton,  of  Framingham,  be- 
came his  wife,  as  will  be  noted  in  its  place. 

While  acting  as  tutor,  he  also  preached  in  different 
places  in  the  vicinity  of  Cambridge.  On  one  of  these  oc- 
casions, he  writes  as  follows  : 

Stoneham,  Dec.  28,  1802. 

I  am  just  returned  from  preaching  to  an  audience,  nu- 
merous for  so  small  a  town,  and  solemn  for  such  a  world 
of  levity.  My  subject  was,  I  pray  thee  have  me  excused ; 
and  doctrine,  sinners  arc  unwilling  to  be  saved.  This  I 
attempted  to  confirm  by  considering,  1.  what  God  has 
said  upon  the  subject ;  2.  the  conduct  of  mankind  in  for- 
mer ages ;  and  3.  the  conduct  of  sinners  at  the  present 
day.  This  concluded  the  forenoon's  sermon,  in  delivering 
which  I  felt  uncommonly  dull,  and,  I  believe,  spoke  with 
little  animation.  This  afternoon,  as  is  frequently  the  case 
Sabbath  afternoons,  I  have  felt  more  vigorous,  and  preach- 
ed with  more  satisfaction,  at  least  to  myself.  Yet  I  have 
reason  to  be  deeply  humbled,  that  I  am  no  more  moved  by 
the  solemn  truths  which  I  preach.  My  afternoon's  ser- 
mon was  nothing  but  recapitulation  and  improvement. 
One  principal  object  was,  to  confirm  and  defend  the  doc- 
trine of  election.  Surely,  if  this  doctrine  be  false,  no  flesh 
can  be.  saved. 

Part  of  my  object  in  this  extract,  is  to  show  the  manner 
in  which  the  young  preachers  of  the  same  school,  then 
generally  constructed  their  discourses,  preaching  both 
parts  of  the  day  from  the  same  text,  with  the  discussion  of 
its  doctrine  in  the  first  sermon,  and  "  the  improvement "  in 
the  last — according  to  the  manner  of  their  teacher,  Dr.  E., 
whom  they  generally  revered,  at  least  as  much  as  any 
mere  man  deserves. 

Lynn  is  one  of  the  places  where  he  preached  for  a  num- 
ber of  Sabbaths,  and  where  he  probably  resided  during 
the  winter  vacation.  From  that  place,  he  writes  as  fo!» 
lows  • 


82  DEATH    OF    RELATIVES. 

Lynn,  Jan.  7,  1803. 

This  morning,  about  sunrise, 

"  I  woke,  emerging  from  a  sea  of  dreams 
Tumultuous,  where  my  wrecked,  desponding  thought, 
From  wave  to  wave  of  fancied  misery, 
At  random  drove." 

"  Our  dying  friends  come  o'er  us  like  a  cloud."  I  have 
lately  received  the  solemn  intelligence  that  four  of  my 
relations  are  dead  !  A  grandmother,  an  uncle,  and  two 
cousins,  one  cousin  instantaneously  by  a  fall.  They  are 
gone,  and  I  must  transfer  the  affection  I  felt  for  them  to 
heaven.  My  acquaintance  was  much  greater  with  my 
grandmother  than  with  any  of  the  others.  She  was  the 
nurse,  the  consoler,  the  instructress,  and  the  joy  of  my 
tender  years.  How  often  and  how  eagerly  have  1  listened 
to  the  anecdotes  of  wisdom  and  the  lessons  of  piety  that 
flowed  from  her  tender,  aged,  I  had  almost  said,  more  than 
maternal  lips.  A  few  months  ago,  I  read  her  a  sermon, 
with  which,  although  she  could  not  hear  the  whole,  she 
appeared  considerably  gratified.  That  interview  1  expect- 
ed would  prove,  as  it  has  proved,  the  last  on  earth.  Dis- 
incumbered  spirit,  whither,  ah  !  whither  was  thy  devious 
flight  ?  Was  it  not  upward  1  Was  not  thy  course  the 
path  of  smiling  angels?  If  thou  art  not  in  Abraham's 
bosom,  what  child  of  corruption  can  ever  hope  to  rise  ? 

At  the  close  of  the  last  year,  I  determined  to  devote 
more  time  to  searching  the  scriptures.  I  have  reason  to 
blush  that  I  have  no  more  knowledge  of  the  sacred  oracles 
of  truth  ;  and  reason  for  still  deeper  abasement  that  I  have 
practiced  so  little  according  to  what  I  have  known. 
Cease  not  to  pray  for  me  that  my  faith  fail  not. 

A  little  previous  to  this  period,  he  commenced  a  journal 
of  his  reading,  preaching,  duties  in  the  college,  etc., 
which  I  find  written  in  the  style  of  letters,  and  designed 
for  the  inspection  of  at  least  one  of  his  friends.  From  that 
journal  I  have  made  the  last  two  extracts,  and  shall  make 
more  :  though  it  is  not  my  intention  to  extract  much  re- 
specting  his  religious  feelings,  from  this  source,  as  I  very 
much  doubt  the  accuracy  of  moral  portraits  derived  from 
such  sources,  however  honest  may  be  the  authors  of  such 
religious  journals,  and  however  profitable  they  may  be  to 


HIS    JOURNAL.  SO 

the  writers.  They  are  doubtless  chiefly  written  in  their 
best  and  their  worst  hours ;  and  thus  leave  the  more  even 
tenor  of  life  comparatively  unnoticed.  This  journal,  with 
some  intervals,  embraces  a  period  of  about  eight  months. 
If  he  kept  a  journal  at  any  other  period,  he  probably 
destroyed  it  before  his  death.  As  it  respects  his  religious 
feelings,  he  indeed  says  much  less  than  is  commonly  found 
in  such  productions ;  and  in  one  place  he  remarks,  that 
he  had  felt  a  great  repugnance  to  committing  them  to 
writing.  This  is  in  accordance  with  his  general  back- 
wardness to  speak  of  his  religious  experience  in  conversa- 
tion, though  always  ready  to  contribute  his  mental  experi- 
ence to  the  stock  of  facts  for  inductive  philosophy  on  men- 
tal science. 

It  seems  needless  for  me  to  remark  on  the  successive 
developements  of  his  mind  and  heart,  as  I  suppose  these 
are  sufficiently  manifest  in  the  liberal  extracts  afforded 
from  his  own  productions.  It  may,  however,  be  proper  to 
say,  that  ample  evidence  is  afforded,  from  the  record  of 
his  reading  and  studies,  that  he  applied  himself,  during 
the  few  months  of  this  record,  with  great  diligence.  For 
much  of  the  time,  he  literally  studied  by  the  hour  and  the 
minute,  having  his  watch  before  him,  and  recording  his 
progress.  He  complains  occasionally  of  "  nervous  affec- 
tions ;"  and  well  he  may  ;  for  surely  it  is  enough  to  make 
a  well  man  nervous,  to  be  in  the  habit  of  studying  till  mid- 
night ;  much  more,  such  an  invalid  as  he,  though  he  should 
often  lie  in  bed  till  eight  in  the  morning,  in  the  winter 
season,  as  some  poor  compensation  to  nature  for  breaking 
nature's  laws.  As  to  studying  by  the  hour,  perhaps  it  was 
his  custom  through  life  ;  for  I  remarked,  even  in  his  last 
year,  when  spending  some  time  with  me,  that  when  he  sat 
down  to  study,  he  always  hung  his  watch  before  him,  on 
a  pin  which  he  inserted  in  the  wainscot. 

At  this  time,  and  subsequently,  he  cultivated  vocal  and 
instrumental  music  with  ardor  and  considerable  success. 
The  flute  and  bass  viol  were  his  favorite  instruments. 

No  one,  at  all  acquainted  with  my  brother,  can  have 
failed  to  remark  his  love  for  the  bible,  and  his  familiarity 
with  its  contents,  both  historical  and  doctrinal.  Indeed, 
to  study  and  to  teach  the  bible,  seems  to  have  been  the 
commanding  object  of  his  life,  from  about  the  period  of 
which  I  am  now  treating.     If  his  biography  is  to  be  of  any 


84  TASSION    FOR    THE    BIBLE. 

use,  probably  one  of  the  most  important  items  of  benefit 
will  be  that  of  his  example  in  this  particular.  On  his  dy- 
incr  bed,  he  remarked,  that  there  were  a  few  points  in  his 
life  which  he  regarded  as  particularly  prominent  ;  and  this 
was  one  of  those  points.  It  becomes,  then,  a  question  of 
special  interest  at  this  stage  in  his  progress,  How  came  he 
to  acquire  such  a  passion,  (for  it  was  nothing  less  than  a 
passion,)  for  the  study  of  the  sacred  pages? 

To  say  that  he  believed  and  most  highly  prizt  d  every 
word  on  those  pages,  is  saying  no  more  than  what  may  be 
said  of  multitudes.  I  doubt,  however,  whether  any  large 
portion  of  even  good  men  have  been  found  steadily  to  place 
such  an  implicit  confidence  in  the  Divine  Word  for  the 
decision  of  all  questions  within  its  scope.  It  is  also'  worthy 
of  remark,  that  this  implicit  confidence  appeared,  if  possi- 
ble, to  increase  with  his  progress  in  sacred  knowledge. 
How  many  thousand  questions,  great  and  small,  have  I 
known  him  very  expeditiously  to  decide  by  some  scripture 
fact  or  precept,  where  other  men  might  scarcely  think  of 
recurring  to  that  grand  source  of  arbitration,  either  for 
want  of  knowledge  or  of  confidence  in  its  decisions  for 
such  matters. 

But  the  question  recurs,  in  nearly  the  same  form,  When 
and  how  did  he  become  possessed  of  this  spirit  and  this 
knowledge  ?  In  answer  to  the  question,  I  must  say,  that 
I  meet  with  no  special  traces  of  either  of  these,  before  the 
resolution,  mentioned  above,  as  taken  at  the  commence- 
ment of  this  year  ;  unless,  indeed,  his  love  for  truth  is  to 
be  regarded  in  this  light.  For  myself,  I  think  something 
is  to  be  attributed  to  this  native  turn  of  mind,  and  its  con- 
comitant estimate  of  solid  grounds  of  evidence.  Such  a 
mind  may  well  be  expected  to  give  an  attentive  ear  to  the 
word  of  God,  when  once  practically  convinced  that  God 
has  indeed  spoken  to  the  children  of  men.  Still,  I  am 
disposed  to  attribute  very  much  to  the  resolution  just  speci- 
fied. Happy  was  the  hour  in  which  he  made  it,  and 
blessed  the  new  year  on  which  he  began  the  practice. 
Very  gracious  to  him,  and  to  all  who  have  been  swayed 
by  his  instructions,  was  the  kind  Providence  that  enabled 
him  so  strictly  to  adhere  to  this  fundamental  principle  in  the 
acquisition  of  all  real  knowledge  in  man's  highest  concerns. 

If  I  may  now  trust  that  the  readers  of  this  book  will  not 
be  disposed  to  complain  of  large  extracts  on  this  subject, 


PLAN    OF    BIBLICAL    STUDY.  85 

such  extracts  shall  be  forthcoming.  It  was  not  a  single 
resolution  that  he  took,  to  be  followed  by  no  plan,  and,  of 
course,  by  no  execution.  We  shall  find  enough,  both  of 
resolutions  and  plans  ;  and  if  brought  to  realize  what  such 
plans  and  resolutions  led  him  to  achieve,  we  may  be 
prompted  to  the  like  attempts. 

Lynn,  Jan.  20,  1803. 

What  an  amazing  task  has  your  friend  undertaken  ! 
Yet  I  am  animated  with  the  thought,  that  it  will  prove  as 
-delightful  as  it  is  great.  Yet  its  greatness  is  almost 
enough  to  overwhelm  one  whose  memory  is  so  feeble, 
whose  constitution  is  so  infirm.  Is  it  not  presumption  for 
me  to  think  of  ever  reading  the  bible  through  in  the  man- 
ner I  have  proposed  ?  For  I  have  determined  to  read  it 
in  the  following  manner,  viz.  : — to  take  a  small  portion  at 
a  time,  in  general  about  a  chapter,  to  read  it  over  with 
great  attention  ;  to  set  down  in  my  common-place  book,  in 
its  proper  place,  every  text  that  appears  to  contain,  to 
prove,  or  to  corroborate  any  important  doctrine ;  to  com- 
mit to  memory  the  most  interesting  and  important  parts 
of  scripture,  verbatim,  and  to  treasure  up  every  historical 
or  biographical  fact,  of  any  importance  to  be  remembered ; 
to  note  down  all  the  passages  of  whose  meaning  I  may 
feel  doubtful,  and  to  consult  Brown's  Dictionary  upon 
whatever  I  may  hope  for  assistance ;  to  note  down  for  fu- 
ture consideration,  all  the  important  queries  that  may 
arise  ;  to  transcribe  all  the  passages  and  expressions  that 
may  appear  proper  to  be  used  in  prayer  ;  to  transcribe  all 
the  texts  that  may  strike  me  as  good  subjects  for  sermons, 
and  to  write  down  the  outlines  of  the  plans,  and  any 
important  ideas  that  may  occur  under  the  several  texts ; 
and,  finally,  to  write  down  a  sketch  of  every  important 
observation  that  may  occur.  Amid  my  various  avocations, 
can  I  ever  accomplish  such  a  plan  as  this  ?  Yet,  notwith- 
standing every  obstacle  that  I  have  been  able  to  think  of, 
my  courage  is  high  ;  I  feel  a  kind  of  enthusiasm  upon  the 
subject.  The  plan  is  my  own,  as  much  as  any  such  thing 
can  be  mine.  By  the  divine  blessing,  I  have  formed  it, 
without  the  assistance  of  any  creature.  I  have  spent 
many  hours  in  thinking  and  in  making  arrangements  upon 
the  subject.  I  have  found  that  I  can  study  to  much 
more  advantage,  and  with  greater  pleasure,  according  to 
8 


86  FORMATION    OF    PLANS. 

plans  of  my  own,  than  those  of  others.  However  arrogant 
my  opinion  may  seem,  yet  it  is  my  opinion,  that  I  shall 
never  apply  to  a  Locke  or  to  a  Newton  to  concert  plans  of 
study  for  me.  I  have  already  suffered  sufficiently  from 
such  servility.  I  have  thought  that  no  person  can  be  a 
thorough  and  accomplished  scholar,  without  forming  plans 
to  direct  his  own  operations.  I  have  thought  that  whoever 
would  be  great,  whoever  would  be  wise,  whoever  would  be 
learned,  must  feel,  in  a  certain  degree,  independent  of 
creatures  ;  that,  looking  to  God  for  assistance,  he  must,  in 
a  certain  sense,  build  his  hopes  upon  the  powers  and  fac- 
ulties that  the  Almighty  has  graciously  given  him.  Yet 
others  may  greatly  assist  him  in  forming  his  plans.  He, 
however,  must  be  the  master  workman.  Then  the  edifice 
will  be  his  own,  though  he  use  timber  procured  and  even 
hewn  by  others.  Upon  all  the  materials,  he  must  exercise 
his  own  judgment,  and  determine  for  himself  whether  he 
choose  this  or  reject  that.  If  he  do  not,  his  building, 
though  composed  of  materials  in  their  own  nature  excel- 
lent, will  be  a  mixture  of  incongruities,  a  mere  chaos. 

But  to  return  to  my  subject.  I  have  formed  many  plans 
for  the  acquisition  of  knowledge.  I  have  found  it  a  very 
pleasing  and  perhaps  profitable  employment.  But  of  all 
my  plans  for  this  purpose,  I  consider  the  one  I  have  lately 
formed  for  reading  the  bible,  as  by  far  the  best,  in  almost 
■every  point  of  view.  What  constitutes  the  greatest  excel- 
lency of  this  plan,  is,  that  it  is  for  an  immediate  study  of 
the  good  word.  However  strange  it  may  seem,  I  have 
never  before  had  a  plan,  that  deserved  the  name  of  apian, 
for  reading  the  bible.  And  hence  it  has  come  to  pass, 
with  shame  I  confess  it,  that  I  am  grossly  ignorant  of 
many  parts  of  the  holy  volume.  What !  a  professed 
preacher  of  the  gospel,  and  yet  not  familiarly  acquainted 
with  the  grand  commission  which  God  has  given  to  his 
ambassadors  !  Hear  it  not,  ye  stars  !  But  I  hope  and 
trust  that  God  will  give  me  strength,  and  opportunity,  and 
inclination,  to  dissipate  some  of  these  clouds  of  ignorance, 
these  clouds  of  more  than  Egyptian — of  mental  darkness, 
darkness  that  is  most  severely  felt.  O  thou  Father  of 
lights,  thou  author  of  every  gift,  may  my  understanding  be 
opened  to  understand  thy  scriptures,  may  my  memory  be 
strengthened  to  retain  the  precious,  precious  things  which 
are  left  on  record  for  the  instruction,  the  reproof,  and  edi- 


PLANS,    ETC.  87 

fication  of  thy  sinful  offspring  ;  and  may  my  heart  be 
opened,  that  I  may  respect  and  practice  all  thy  commands. 

0  that  I  might  be  instrumental  of  making  men  to  know 
thy  gospel  and  to  obey  thy  law,  to  the  salvation  of  their 
souls  ! 

I  need  to  add  no  comment  on  the  above.  I  will  only 
say,  that  while  the  subject  of  this  extract  is  of  the  deepest 
importance,  the  whole  extract  is  very  characteristic  of  my 
brother's  mind  through  life,  especially  as  regards  the  work 
of planning,  which  was  indeed  no  small  part  of  his  whole 
work.  He  was  always  planning,  and  helping  and  teach- 
ing others  to  plan.  System,  and  the  best  possible  system, 
in  things  great  and  small,  was  the  object  of  his  unceasing 
aspirations.  Had  he  lived  to  the  age  of  an  antediluvian, 
he  would  not  have  ceased  to  device  schemes  and  facilities 
for  usefulness.  His  ardor  of  mind,  joined  with  originality 
of  thought  and  power  of  invention,  fitted  him  for  the  work, 
and  gave  him  a  delight  in  anticipating  the  good  he  hoped 
from  such  inventions,  which  few  can  appreciate,  without 
the  like  experience. 

As  it  regards  the  religious  condition  of  the  college,  I 
find  the  following  remark,  in  his  notice  of  a  short  tour  in 
the  vacation.  In  passing  through  Cambridge,  he  says,  "  I 
called  upon  Dr.  Tappan,  and  conversed  nearly  an  hour 
upon  the  religious  state,  or  rather  the  irreligious  state  of 
our  college."  And  had  that  same  Dr.  Tappan  then  also 
known  the  doctrines  that  were  soon  to  be  taught  from  the 
chair  of  his  sacred  professorship,  how  much  sadder  must 
have  been  such  a  conference. 

Under  date  of  January  30,  1803,  he  says: — "  I  am  now 
determined  to  make  the  holy  word  my  great  study,  and  to 
read  neither  newspapers,  nor    scarcely  any  thing  else,  till 

1  shall  have  finished  the  sacred  volume  according  to  my 
plan.  The  task  is  very  great.  But  God  may  give  me 
health  and  industry  to  accomplish  it.  I  have  not  done 
with  the  two  first  chapters  of  Genesis,  for  I  have  not  quite 
committed  them  to  memory.  I  hope  to  finish  by  com- 
mencement." 

It  was  thus  that  he  laid  aside  every  weight,  and  ad- 
dressed himself  to  the  great  work  of  learning  the  bible. 
It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed,  that  he  designed  to 


88  PLANS,    ETC. 

commit  the  whole  bible  to  memory,  as  is  manifest  from  his 
plan  before  given. 

In  the  early  part  of  February,  he  returned  to  the  college. 
The  following  extract  may  show  the  sanctified  philosophy 
that  then  ruled  his  heart.  "  I  saw  Mr. ,  a  few  min- 
utes, who  is  two  or  three  years  younger  than  myself.  If 
you  knew  him,  you  might  be  justified  at  least  in  thinking 
of  an  "  angel."  1  feel,  and  I  know,  and  I  rejoice,  that  he 
is  my  superior,  greatly  my  superior,  in  almost  every  thing. 
Though  I  feel  weak,  compared  with  many  of  my  acquaint- 
ances, I  do  not  envy  them.  Surely  the  world,  lying  so 
deep  in  wickedness,  seems  to  need  more  good  and  great 
men  than  we  see."  True  enough,  a  dying  world  does 
need  them  :  and  this  thought  is  the  very  balm  of  heaven  to 
that  gangrene  of  the  soul,  an  envious  disposition. 

He  returned  to  his  college  duties  with  invigorated  health 
and  resolution,  though  still  in  such  a  state  that  his  physi- 
cian recommended  to  him  the  experiment  of  omitting  his 
breakfasts. 

The  following  he  placed  before  himself  as  distinct 
objects  of  pursuit  for  the  term  on  which  he  was  entering  : 
"  Self-knowledge,  Plans,  Biography ,  Astronomy ,  Algebra, 
and  the  Bible.  These  six,"  he  remarks,  "  I  must  bear 
in  mind  from  day  to  day.  Other  things,  and  indeed  some 
other  studies,  must  have  some  attention."  Some  of  these 
studies  required  his  attention  as  instructor  of  the  senior 
class  in  college.  His  conscience  seemed  always  alive  to 
the  duties  he  owed  to  his  pupils;  nor  could  he  think  of 
excusing  himself  from  the  most  faithful  performance  of 
these  duties,  even  for  the  purpose  of  accomplishing  his 
darling  plan  for  the  study  of  the  bible.  Let  us  hear  him 
on  these  and  kindred  topics,  in  a  passage  under  date  of 
February  22,  1803. 

"Have  you  not,  before  this  time,  inquired  within  your- 
self, What  has  become  of  the  plan  for  studying  the  scrip- 
tures? Though,  for  a  while,  1  have  neglected  its  execu- 
tion, I  have  by  no  means  forgotten  my  plan.  I  have  been 
encumbered  with  many  things.  I  am  convinced  that  it  is 
not  my  duty  to  pursue  it  according  to  my  first  intention, 
viz.  to  the  exclusion  of  almost  every  other  study.  I  am 
placed  at  the  university  to  instruct  others,  and  am  hand- 
somely rewarded.  Can  I  think  of  receiving  a  reward  for 
doing  nothing  1     No !  I  must  devote  most  of  my  time  to 


DIDACTICS.  89 

the  benefit  of  the  students  ;  that  is,  in  instructing  them, 
or  in  preparing  materials  to  instruct  them,  in  the  best 
manner.  The  branches  that  I  teach,  therefore,  and  not 
the  bible,  must  be  my  great  study.  In  order  to  render 
the  pupils'  progress  the  most  pleasing  and  rapid,  it  is  not 
enough  that  the  instructor  understand  the  exercises  which 
he  assigns.  He  must  consult  other  books  ;  he  must  think ; 
he  must  dive  into  the  subject ;  he  must  compare.  He 
must  be  able  to  raise  questions  upon  the  subject,  which 
will  lead  to  the  application  of  general  principles.  He 
must  be  able  to  illustrate,  and  elucidate,  and  tell  the  ichys 
and  the  wherefores.  This  will  render  his  exercises  inter- 
esting and  instructive  to  every  mind  that  has  the  least  taste 
for  science.  But  this  requires  labor:  though  it  is  a  labor 
that  yields  its  own  reward — a  reward  above  the  price  of 
rubies."  From  this,  my  brother  proceeds  to  speak  of  his 
reading  Euler's  Philosophical  Letters,  and  also  of  the  value 
of  conversation  on  the  branches  he  was  teaching,  as  a  pre- 
parative for  the  discharge  of  his  duties.  He  then  adds : 
"  Though  mathematics  and  philosophy  claim  my  principal 
attention,  yet  I  hope  not  to  neglect  the  bible  entirely.  I 
hope  and  believe  I  shall  devote  a  much  greater  proportion 
to  the  sacred  study,  than  1  have  done  for  the  two  years 
past." 

Under  date  of  February  26,  1S03,  he  remarks,  in  a 
manner  sufficiently  characteristic, — "  About  ten  minutes 
ago,  I  conceived  the  intention  of  writing  a  book  upon 
education,  for  the  public,  and  hope  to  finish  it  within 
twenty-five  or  thirty  years."  Alas  !  how  little  did  this 
dear  brother  then  think,  that  he  had  here  specified  the 
very  period  that  was  to  terminate  all  his  earthly  labors. 
And  how  little  did  he  think,  that  this  book  was  to  be  writ- 
ten, not  on  paper,  but,  what  is  far  better,  on  the  living 
tablets  of  a  thousand  minds,  committed  to  his  forming  hand 
in  the  work  of  education,  and  now  spread  through  our 
community  to  teach  it.  It  may  here  be  recollected  that 
he  had  before  resolved  to  write  a  treatise  on  education,  but 
not  "  a  booh  for  the  public." 

Early  in  March,  he  began  to  preach  in  Beverly,  in  the 
parish  where  he  was  afterwards  settled.  His  first  engage- 
ment was  for  six  Weeks,  at  the  end  of  which  he  was 
already  pledged  to  go  for  a  while  to  Windsor,  Vt.  Just 
8* 


90  PROJECTS,    RESOLUTIONS, 

previous  to  this,  he  had  been  supplying  a  pulpit  in  Read- 
ing. 

The  following  is  part  of  the  notice  he  gives  of  a  ride 
from  Beverly  to  Cambridge,  this  month.  — "  1  had  a 
most  delightful  ride.  The  atmosphere  never  appeared 
more  pure.  For  a  considerable  part  of  the  way,  I  had  a 
prospect  of  the  sea,  thickly  interspersed  with  islands,  and 
adorned  with  ships.  More  than  once  did  I  leave  my 
horse,  and  climb  the  craggy  rock,  to  enjoy  the  scene.  But 
I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  my  emotions  at  viewing  the 
mighty  ocean,  of  which,  in  some  directions,  I  had  an  un- 
interrupted prospect  to  the  utmost  of  my  ken."  But  there 
is  no  room  in  this  memoir  for  extended  descriptions  of 
scenery.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  while  the  rational  and  im- 
mortal soul  was  studied  and  admired  by  my  brother,  as  the 
chief  work,  yet  he  was  by  no  means  blind  to  the  other 
works  of  the  divine  hand.  The  earth,  "  the  great  and  wide 
sea,"  the  sublime  wonders  of  astronomy,  and  the  curious 
workmanship  of  the  human  frame,  were  themes  on  which 
he  often  dwelt  with  rapture. 

Here  is  the  proper  place  for  inserting  what  I  find 
grouped  together  under  the  following  date  and  designation. 

Cambridge,  March  1,  1803. 
PROJECTS,    RESOLUTIONS,    AND    EXPECTATIONS. 

Am  I,  then,  the  most  unsteady  of  mortals  ?  How  many 
"  resolutions"  have  I  formed,  never  to  be  executed ;  how 
many  "  projects  "  have  I  concerted  and  relinquished  ;  how- 
many  of  my  expectations  have  been  cut  off,  in  conse- 
quence of  being  lbunded  upon  vain  imaginations!  And 
shall  [  add  to  my  mountain  of  fruitless  resolutions,  aban- 
doned projects,  and  foolish  expectations?  Yes,  1  shall 
doubtless  augment  their  enormous  bulk.  And  shall  I  then 
continue  to  be  a  "  wave  driven  about  and  tossed  ?" 
Though  I  should  be  driven  about  by  the  storms  of  life, 
and  the  many  winds  of  opinion,  that  are  so  often  and  so 
furiously  striving  together,  I  hope  I  shall  ever  press  to- 
ward the  great,  the  eternal  center  of  my  affections  and 
hopes.  But  as  long  as  I  act  like  a  rational  being,  J  shall 
doubtless  continue  to  form  plans  for  improvement ;  and, , 
as  long  as  I  continue  to  improve,  I  may  deem  it  expedient 
to  alter   these  plans,  or  to  exchange  them  for   better.     If 


AND    EXPECTATIONS.  91 

any  one  exercise  has  tended  to  improve  my  mind  above 
all  others,  perhaps  it  has  been  forming  and  improving 
plans.  I  trust  it  has  not  been  in  vain,  that  I  have  built  so 
many  castles  in  the  air,  to  be  blown  away  by  the  breath  of 
experience.  I  cannot,  therefore,  think  of  laying  aside  a 
practice,  at  once  so  entertaining,  so  immediately  benefi- 
cial, so  promising  of  future  advantage,  as  that  of  inquiring, 
and  of  concerting  plans,  in  order  to  employ  my  talents  more 
beneficially  to  the  world,  and  to  spend  my  time  more  ac- 
ceptably to  my  God.  And  not  only  would  I  form  plans 
for  the  regulation  of  my  own  conduct,  but  with  great  def- 
erence, where  there  may  be  a  prospect  of  doing  good,  I 
would  propose  them  to  others,  especially  to  young  persons, 
whose  confidence  I  may  possess. 

"  All  men  are  about  to  live,"  says  Young  ;  "  forever  on 
the  brink  of  being  born."  I  have  spent  more  than  twenty- 
five  years  in  the  world  :  and  much  of  this  time  has  been 
taken  up  in  trying,  and  trying,  and  trying,  to  study.  Do 
not  think  me  jesting;  it  is  the  real  language  of  my  heart. 
Sometimes  I  have  thought,  I  had  almost  begun,  or  that  I 
should  soon  begin,  to  study  in  earnest.  Sometimes  I  have 
ventured  to  cherish  the  belief,  that  I  had  really  made 
some  progress  in  knowledge  ;  at  others,  1  have  almost 
given  up  in  despair  the  thought  of  ever  knowing  any  thing. 
Perhaps  most  of  my  acquaintances,  except  yourself,  might 
think  me  disposed  to  trifle,  and  to  be  merry  unseasonably, 
in  making  such  declarations.  I  do  not  deny  that  I  think 
myself  possessed  of  something  that  the  world  calls  knowl- 
edge :  though  by  no  means  so  much  as  many  imagine. 
But  I  have  had  no  education.  I  have  been  laboring  to 
great  disadvantage.  Though  I  have  read  a  considerable 
number  and  variety  of  books,  and  thought  as  much  as 
most  persons  of  my  age,  yet  I  hardly  dare  so  much  to  flat- 
ter myself,  as  to  imagine  that  my  acquisitions  deserve  the 
name  of  science.  Imagine  to  yourself  a  heap  of  stuff, 
consisting  of  timber  partly  hewn,  and  partly  rough  ;  broken 
shingles,  with  here  and  there  a  whole  one  ;  rusty,  crooked, 
broken  nails,  with  some  a  little  better,  etc.  Should  you 
call  such  a  mass  of  matter,  a  house  ?  If  I  have  any  thing 
that  looks  like  knowledge,  it  is  nothing  more  than  broken 
fragments  of  science. 

It  is  the  prerogative  of  rational  beings,  to  bring  order 
out  of  confusion.     But  if  the  confusion  be  great,  the  most 


92  PROJECTS,    RESOLUTIONS, 

intense  cogitation  is  necessary  to  bring  forth  order.  Hence 
it  is  evident,  that  whoever  has  not  had  a  good  education, 
must  apply  himself  closely  to  form  a  plan  lor  himself,  and 
must  form  a  good  plan  and  pursue  it;  or  he  ought 
never  to  think  of  being  a  man  of  science. 

Impressed  with  sentiments  like  these,  I  have,  within  a 
few  years,  spent  much  time  in  planning.  And  1  trust  my 
exertions  have  not  been  fruitless.  I  have  succeeded  be- 
yond my  expectations  in  forming  and  executing  plans  for 
reducing  all  my  actions  to  the  principles  of  christian  phi- 
losophy ;  in  arranging  my  books,  papers,  furniture,  etc. 
Much  time  has  been  saved  in  this  way,  and  some  perplex- 
ity has  been  avoided.  But  much  still  remains  to  be  done. 
My  things  are  not  arranged  to  my  mind.  Many  plans 
have  I  formed  for  studying.  But  none  of  them  suits,  ex- 
cepting one  for  reading  the  scriptures,  which  I  hope  to 
improve.  But  I  must  also  read  the  book  of  nature.  It  is 
written  by  the  same  almighty  finger,  as  the  pure  word  of 
prophecy.  And  so  difficult  must  it  be  to  form  a  plan  to 
read  this  to  advantage,  that  the  very  thought  of  it  seems 
almost  enough  to  make  one  shrink  back  in  despair.  The 
success  and  the  pleasure  I  have  had  in  making  plans, 
however,  tend  to  raise  my  courage ;  and  I  trust  the  many 
abortive  plans  I  have  formed,  have  made  me  in  some  de- 
gree an  adept  in  the  business.  To  concert,  try,  and  reject 
schemes,  must  throw  light  upon  the  subject.  Perhaps, 
indeed,  none  of  my  schemes  will  ultimately  prove  alto- 
gether abortive.  From  every  plan  I  may  collect  some  part 
that  will  prove  useful  in  my  great  plan,  should  I  succeed 
in  forming  one.  I  feel  that  it  is  a  subject  claiming  my 
attention  more  and  more.  My  design  is  to  record  my 
most  important  plans  and  resolutions,  that  I  may  use  them 
in  forming  other  plans,  as  occasion  may  require  :  that  I 
may  be  better  able  to  study  the  powers  and  progress  of 
my  own  mind  ;  that  I  may  mature  the  plans,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, at  the  time.  Writing  has  a  tendency  to  make  us 
think  closely  upon  any  subject ;  and  perhaps  the  best 
method  of  studying  a  subject,  when  we  have  sufficient 
materials  to  work  with,  is  to  sit  down  and  write  upon  it. 

The  formation  of  a  plan  to  study  nature  to  the  greatest 
advantage,  must  be  extremely  arduous.  I  have  only  at- 
tempted to  lay  one  or  two  of  the  corner  stones.  One  is,  to 
attend  principally  to  the  works  of  nature's  most  highly  fa- 


EXPECTATIONS    AND    CHARACTERISTICS.  93 

vored  sons,  as  Homer,  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Locke,  New- 
ton, etc.  Another  is,  to  study  with  reference  to  the  trea- 
tise on  education,  which  I  have  determined  to  write.  The 
plan  that  I  have  formed,  in  order  to  enable  me  to  form  a 
plan,  is,  to  complete  the  reading  of  Stewart's  Elements,  to 
read  Locke's  Essay,  and  likewise  his  treatise  on  the  con- 
duct of  the  understanding  ;  and  also  Newton's  Principles 
of  Natural  Philosophy,  which,  a  few  days  ago,  I  was  hap- 
py to  purchase  translated  into  English.  The  last  work  I 
may  not  finish  under  a  year  or  two.  I  can  hardly  think 
of  it  without  trembling.  But  I  intend  to  begin  it  as  soon 
as  I  have  spent  a  day  or  two  in  preparatory  reading  in 
Fenn's  Physical  World,  and  in  the  Encyclopedia,  articles 
Newtonian  Philosophy,  Physics,  Experimental  Philosophy, 
and  Dynamics.  I  have  had  thoughts  of  reading  philoso- 
phy and  metaphysics,  each  a  day  at  a  time.  But  it  is  un- 
certain how  I  shall  like  this  method.  It  is  likewise  my 
intention  to  pay  more  attention  to  instructing  the  scholars 
and  to  observe  their  capacities  and  progress,  with  more 
attention  than  I  have  hitherto  done.  Within  a  few  months, 
I  hope  to  form  a  plan  that  shall  enable  me  to  study  with 
four  times  as  much  advantage  as  I  now  study  ;  that  is, 
with  twice  the  regularity  and  twice  the  rapidity. 

March  '2. — This  you  will  call  enthusiasm.  So  be  it.  I 
hope  it  is  not  a  dangerous  enthusiasm.  Surely  I  can  read 
and  think  to  more  advantage  than  I  could  last  term.  We 
see  some  men  with  much  more  information  and  under- 
standing than  others.  This  is  not  so  much  owing  to  the 
difference  of  their  mental  powers,  as  to  their  different 
modes  of  application,  and  different  degrees  of  persever- 
ance. If  you  think  me  possessed  of  superior  powers  of 
mind,  you  are  certainly  deceived.  You  will  find  few  ex- 
amples of  memories  so  weak  as  mine.  My  apprehension 
is  by  no  means  quick.  If,  in  any  instances,  it  may  seem 
quick,  it  has  arisen  from  attention  to  the  subject,  as  a 
mechanic  has  a  quick  apprehension  of  every  thing  relating 
to  his  trade,  and,  in  those  things  he  is  accustomed  to 
make,  can  more  readily  discover  a  defect  or  a  beauty,  than 
the  most  eagle-eyed  philosopher  unacquainted  with  the 
business.  Curiosity,  the  object  of  ten  thousand  curses 
among  men,  is  the  only  mental  property  in  which  I  would 
dare  claim  superiority.  In  the  hand  of  God,  this  has  been 
the  instrument  of  arousing  my  attention,  of  stimulating  my 


94  PROJECTS,    ETC. 

other  faculties,  of  exciting  my  inquiries,  of  urging  me  on 
to  exertions,  sometimes,  perhaps,  beyond  my  strength. 
Yet  I  desire  to  bless  God  that,  notwithstanding  my  appli- 
cation, and  all  that  persons  have  said  or  thought  about  my 
endangering  my  health  by  hard  study,  my  constitution 
appears  to  be  growing  better  from  year  to  year.  In  curi- 
osity, have  originated  all  my  plans.  If  I  rise  in  knowledge 
and  respectability,  it  will  not,  it  cannot  be  from  the 
strength  of  my  faculties,  but  their  judicious  use  and  appli- 
cation. In  this  way  I  have  already  risen,  and  risen  much 
too  high,  in  the  view  of  the  world.  I  often  think  it  im- 
possible for  me  long  to  possess  the  station  of  exc<  Hence 
which  my  friends  seem  disposed  to  assign  me.  Yet  I  hope 
not  to  abuse  their  too  great  confidence  in  my  attainments, 
though  it  may  be  impossible  for  me  to  avoid  disappointing 
their  expectations.  Though  I  trust  I  am  not  unduly 
elated  by  the  opinion  of  others,  yet  I  determine  to  exert 
myself  to  deserve  their  esteem  and  affections.  Do  not 
misunderstand  me.  God  forbid  that  I  should  bow  the 
knee  to  the  Baal  of  popularity.  But  the  well-grounded 
approbation  and  applause  of  the  wise  and  good,  is  surely 
desirable.  A  good  name  is  better  than  precious  ointment. 
If,  by  exerting  myself  to  serve  my  God  and  his  creatures ; 
if,  by  living  the  life  of  a  christian  philosopher,  1  can 
acquire  a  good  name,  a  good  name  I  am  determined  to 
have.  If  not,  I  will  patiently  and  cheerfully  wait  till  the 
great  day  of  decision. 

March  3. — Design  to  sing  with  S ,  for  mutual  im- 
provement— to  improve  my  own  taste,  and  to  acquire  such 
a  knowledge  of  music,  as  may  render  me  useful  in  my  pro- 
fession, as  it  relates  to  that  part  of  devotion,  and  also  to 
improve  my  voice  for  speaking  ;  also  to  assist  my  private 
devotions.  Made  a  little  book  to  be  always  kept  with 
care.  For  keeping  it  with  me,  I  have  two  reasons.  1.  To 
take  down  whatever  may  be  peculiarly  worthy  to  be  re- 
membered. 2.  To  review  it  whenever  I  may  have  leisure. 
From  this  plan,  I  have  high  expectations.  It  may  enable 
me  to  save  many  important  things  from  being  forgotten ; 
and  likewise  to  redeem  many  moments  of  time  that  other- 
wise might  be  worse  than  lost.  It  may  likewise  excite 
my  attention,  wherever  I  am,  and  in  whatever  I  am  doing, 
to  inquire,  "  What  important  fact  or  circumstance  can  I 
here  find  worthy  to  be  remembered  ?     What  good  fruit  can 


CHIROGRAPIIY.  95 

I  reap  here  ?"  Beside  all  the  time  redeemed,  and  all  the 
knowledge  gained,  I  expect  the  execution  of  this  plan  will 
tend  greatly  to  improve  the  understanding,  and  to  sharpen 
metaphysical  acumen.  This  plan  is  not  entirely  new.  I 
have  thought  of  something  like  it  before ;  but  have  done 
scarcely  any  thing  towards  the  execution. 

Resolved,  as  I  have  often  resolved  before,  to  be  more 
attentive  to  my  chirography. 

1.  To  make  every  letter  so  that  it  may  be  known  sep- 
arately. 

2.  To  place  my  letters  a  little  more  uprightly. 

3.  To  place  them  nearer  together,  that  they  may  not 
take  up  so  much  room. 

4.  To  make  the  principal  lines,  which  are  designed  for 
straight  lines,  more  nearly  straight,  and  more  nearly 
parallel. 

5.  To  endeavor  to  write  more  evenly,  that  is,  to  make 
all  the  minor  lines,  such  as  those  in  ut,  n,  a,  w,  u9  etc.,  of 
the  same  length ;  all  the  middle  lines,  as  t,  of  the  same 
length  ;  and  likewise  the  major  lines,  as  Z,  h,  k,  bj,  y,  etc., 
of  the  same  length ;  the  double  major,  as  f,  of  the  same 
length ;  and  the  composite,  as  p,  of  the  same  length ;  to 
reduce  them  all  to  a  geometrical  ratio,  or,  in  other  words, 
to  endeavor  to  ascertain  the  best  geometrical  ratio,  and 
make  them  according  to  that  ratio. 

6.  To  press  the  pen  with  my  fingers  more  lightly,  and 
the  pen  more  lightly  upon  the  paper. 

7.  To  practice  making  straight  marks,  parts  of  letters, 
whole  letters  separately  and  joined,  and  to  make  Roman 
characters,  etc.,  after  the  best  models,  and  according  to 
the  best  of  my  own  judgment. 

S.  To  practice  flourishing,  and  the  like. 

9.  To  apply  to  Mr.  J ,  and  others,  for  information 

upon  the  subject. 

The  execution  of  this  plan,  for  only  a  few  months,  I 
think  must  increase  my  acquaintance  with  the  principles 
of  geometry,  and,  at  the  same  time,  greatly  improve  my 
hand  writing.  Though  at  first  I  may  not  be  able  to  write 
nearly  so  fast,  and  though  my  writing  may  not  be  so  good, 
yet,  confident  1  am,  that  a  few  years  perseverance  in  the 
execution  of  this  plan,  cannot  fail,  under  the  smiles  of 
heaven,  to  make  me  a  very  good,  and  a  very  rapid  writer. 


96  RESOLUTIONS. 

March  17. — I  have  this  week  been  reaping  the  reward 
of  my  folly  ;  therefore, 

1.  Resolved,  to  be  in  bed  within  five  minutes  of  twelve, 
unless  something  extraordinary  forbid. 

2.  Resolved,  to  eat  no  more  melted  butter  within  three 
months,  and  very  little  fat  of  any  kind. 

3.  Resolved,  to  avoid  riding  in  the  dark  as  much  as 
possible. 

4.  Resolved  to  be  more  methodical  and  industrious  in 
study ;  and  for  this  purpose,  to  spend  some  time  in  the 
morning  to  lay  out  the  business  of  the  day ;  to  write  down 
the  decision  in  my  journal,  and  then  exert  myself  to  per- 
form the  task  voluntarily  imposed. 

5.  Resolved  to  go  to  Boston  very  rarely  ;  to  visit  very 
little ;  to  apply  constantly  to  my  studies,  except  when 
called  away  by  imperious  duty. 

6.  Resolved,  to  be  more  economical,  not  only  of  time 
but  of  money.  I  am  in  danger  of  poverty  ;  and  though 
I  would  not  be  rich,  yet  I  wish  for  such  a  measure  of  this 
world's  goods  as  to  preclude  the  necessity  of  labor  or 
anxiety  for  my  daily  bread. 

7.  Resolved,  to  ascertain,  as  nearly  as  possible,  my  pro- 
perty ;  and  to  keep  an  exact  account  of  every  expendi- 
ture exceeding  five  cents :  and  bring  my  curiosity  for 
purchasing  under  the  dominion  of  reason  ;  and  not  to 
buy  any  thing  until  I  have  coolly  reflected  and  concluded 
that  it  is  duty. 

To  mention  no  other  advantage  of  executing  resolution 
seventh,  it  will  be  a  good  exercise  in  arithmetic,  which  I 
have  too  much  neglected  and  in  which  I  am  apt  to  make 
mistakes  ;  and,  I  hope,  it  will  not  make  me  avaricious 
nor  stingy. 

8.  Resolved,  to  pay  all  my  debts,  as  soon  as  possible  ; 
and  to  avoid,  as  far  as  may  be,  owing  any  man  money. 

March  28. — Resolved,  to  spend  an  hour  every  day  in 
reading  the  bible,  and  writing  remarks,  etc. — not,  how- 
ever, according  to  the  plan  concerted  about  ten  weeks  ago. 
For  though  that  is  unquestionably  a  good  plan,  yet  I  have 
deemed  it  expedient  to  defer  studying  the  scriptures  upon 
that  plan  until  I  leave  college.  Seven  hours  in  a  week,  I 
think,  is  as  much  time  as  I  now  ought  to  devote  immedi- 


VARIATIONS    IN    FEELING.  97 

ately  to  the  sublime   and   sacred  study.     My  privilege  of 
books  here   is  the  principal  reason   of  deferring  the 
ecution  of  the  above-mentioned  scheme. 

2.  Resolved  to  pay  attention  to  history  more  than  I 
have  don?.  In  scarcely  any  branch  of  knowledge  am  I 
so  shamefully  ignorant  as  in  history. 

March  -VJ. — Most  solemnly  resolved  to  take  more  heed 
to  my  ways  and  more  cautiously  to  beware  of  beginnings 
and  to  shun  the  appearance  ot  evil. 

March  30. — Resolved,  to  write  the  biography  of  the 
principal  men  in  scripture. 

To  what  extent  he  continued  this  little  book  of  resolu- 
tions, I  am  unable  to  decide,  as  I  find  it  only  in  fragments, 
and  none  beyond  the  date  just  specified.  As  to  his  desire 
of  human  approbation,  if  we  take  my  brother's  language 
in  the  simple  and  obvious  sense  in  which  he  was  always 
accustomed  to  speak",  no  one  can  deny  the  correctness  of 
his  principle,  without  denying  the  bible,  and  doing  vio- 
lence to  the  dictates  of  the  best  regulated  minds.  At  the 
same  time,  it  is  true,  that  similar  language  is  sometimes 
used  in  justification  of  ambitious  and  ungodly  motives:  but 
it  comes  from  men  of  a  far  different  stamp.  We  can 
hardly  expect  those  who  regard  the  praise  of  men  more 
than  that  of  God,  to  call  this  unhallowed  preference  by  its 
proper  name. 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  draw  more  from  his  memoranda  and 
from  his  letters,  respecting  his  health  and  spirits,  both  of 
which  varied  in  hirn,  as  in  other  mortals  of  delicate  tex- 
ture in  body  and  mind.  The  reader  must  here,  however. 
be  contented  with  barely  a  specimen  of  the  extremes. 

April  8,  1803. — Morning  as  beautiful  as  perhaps  any 
other  since  God  commanded  the  light  to  spring  out  of 
darkness:  and  I  perhaps  nearly  as  healthy  and  happy  as 
at  any  time  since  I  first  drew  the  breath  of  life. 

The  gentle^zephyrs  waft  upon  their  wing. 
Fransr'nt  with  ten  thousand  ecstaeies,  the  spring. 
Surelv  the  sun  looked  ne'er  so  bright  before  ; 
Socfa  \errlure  smiled  not  in  the  days  of  yore. 
While  all  inanimate  below  the  sky 
Are  hymning  anthems  to  the  Lord  on  high, 
O  may  this  heart  in  harmony  reply. 

9 


98  WINDSOR. CALL  TO  BEVERLY. 

A  letter,  written  a  few  days  later,  presents  the  other  side 
of  the  picture. 

■April  21,  1803.— The  weather  is  chilly.  The  sun  is 
sinking  behind  the  clouds.  My  soul  is  sorrowful.  I  have 
been  more  unwell  this  afternoon  than  for  several  months 
before.  It  is  with  some  difficulty  that  I  can  speak  ;  though 
I  have  found  less  difficulty  in  performing  chapel  duties 
than  I  had  feared.  My  throat  is  a  little  sore.  I  hope 
sickness  will  not  prevent  my  going  to  Windsor.  Most  of 
the  time  my  existence  this  week  has  been  but  a  few  de- 
grees above  vegetation.  But  God  forbid  that  I  should 
complain.  I  trust  the  sun  of  righteousness  will  soon  dis- 
perse the  clouds  that  shade  my  soul. 

During'the  college  vacation  in  May,  he  fulfilled  his  en- 
gagement at  Windsor,  Vt.,  where  he  preached  on  three 
Sabbaths  to  good  acceptance.  During  this  period,  he 
made  an  excursion  to  Hanover,  and  visited  Dartmouth 
college.  In  his  letters,  I  have  before  me  a  sufficiently 
minute  and  glowing  account  of  these  journeys,  and  of  his 
preaching,  and  his  very  agreeable  residence  at  Windsor  : 
but  as  I  know  of  nothing  very  important  connected  with 
this  portion  of  his  history,  I  must  not  occupy  that  space 
with  the  record,  which  is  needed  for  other  matter. 

On  his  return  to  Cambridge,  he  thus  writes  to  a  friend, 
under  date  of  June  10,  1803: 

I  have  determined  to  leave  college  immediately  after 
next  commencement.  It  is  possible  Beverly  may  be  the 
field  of  my  future  labors  in  the  ministry.  From  the  third 
parish  in  that  place,  where  I  have  lately  been  preaching,  I 
have  received  a  call,  without  a  single  dissenting  voice 
among  church  or  people.  They  expect  an  affirmative 
answer.  Though  I  have  not  given  them  much  encour- 
agement, it  is  probable  I  shall  comply  witli  their  wishes, 
unless  duty  should  seem  to  call  me  to  Windsor.  I  have 
received  no  request,  however,  except  from  a  few  individu- 
als, to  return  to  Windsor,  and  it  is  uncertain  whether  I 
shall.  In  a  few  weeks,  this  point  will  probably  be  de- 
cided. 

I  find  frequent  notices  of  his  efforts  to  improve  himself 
in  music,  both  vocal  and  instrumental.     The  delight  and 


MUSIC. INDEPENDENT    THINKING.  99 

edification  he  derived  from  this  angelic  art,  led  him  often 
to  urge  his  friends  to  attempt  the  like  acquisition.  The 
following  is  a  specimen  of  his  exhortations  on  this  subject, 
in  a  letter  about  this  time. 

"It  is  not  many  years  since  it  was  with  great  difficulty 
that  I  could  take  a  sound,  and  did  not  certainly  know 
whether  I  had  the  right  sound  or  not.  Though  I  cannot 
expect  ever  to  perform  well,  yet,  for  all  the  gold  of  Ophir, 
I  would  not  sell   the  small  degree  that  I  have   attained  in 

this  heavenly  art. I   suppose  some  persons  have 

told  you  that  you  could  not  learn  to  sing.  Be  not  dis- 
couraged at  that.  Such  stories  were  told  me ;  but  I  now 
rejoice,  that  I  disbelieved  them.  If  you  succeed  in  learn- 
ing music,  you  may  expect  to  reap  other  advantages  be- 
side the  raptures  of  devotion,  and  the  gratification  of  your 
friends.  1  prize  my  knowledge  of  music,  at  least  as 
highly  as  my  knowledge  of  natural  philosophy. " 

The  following  will  show  his  views  on  the  importance  of 
independent  thinking,  and  the  means  of  attaining  so 
desirable  a  habit.  They  may  be  useful  to  the  young 
reader. 

"  It  is  thinking,  thinking  intensely,  that  nerves  the  mind, 
that  makes  the  scholar.  Without  close  thinking,  the 
reading  and  conversation  of  years,  will  only  tend  to  damp 
and  smother  the  flame  of  intelligence.  And  what  is  the 
best  method  to  learn  to  think?  Is  it  not  frequently  and 
carefully  writing  upen  interesting  and  important  subjects? 
From  this  method,  experience  assures  me  that  I  have  de- 
rived considerable  advantage.  1  believe  you  may  do  like- 
wise. The  task  1  am  about  to  recommend,  you  may  at 
first  find  tedious.  Practice,  I  hope,  will  render  it  pleas- 
ing. It  may  seem  more  difficult  to  you  than  it  really  is. 
We  cannot  certainly  tell,  before  trying,  what  we  are  able 
to  accomplish.  Scarcely  any  thing  has  surprised  me  more 
than  my  own  success  in  many  instances,  where  I  began 
with  a  tearfulness  approaching  despondency.  Perhaps  my 
lot  has,  in  this  respect,  been  peculiar.  But  in  most  things 
that  I  have  attempted,  success  has  greatly  surpassed  pre- 
vious expectation.  It  is  this  which  gives  me  confidence 
in  my  own  abilities,  which  I  could  by  no  means  feel  from 
the  mere  contemplation  of  my  mind." 


100  BAXTER. 

Here  he  subjoins  no  less  than  thirty-seven  questions, 
mostly  on  topics  contained  in  the  bible,  on  which  he  re- 
quested his  friend  to  write.  Nothing  was  more  common 
for  him  than  to  suggest  such  questions.  Through  the 
whole  of  his  subsequent  life,  he  was  in  the  very  frequent 
habit  of  proposing  to  himself  and  others,  definite  questions 
of  thought  on  important  subjects.  So,  too,  when  sitting 
in  his  study,  nothing  was  more  common  than  to  see  hirn 
lay  aside  his  book,  or  his  manuscript,  and  write  some 
question  for  future  thought,  in  a  little  book  or  loose  piece 
of  paper.  Such  scraps,  filled  with  questions,  were  always 
on  his  table.  Hence  the  facility  he  acquired  in  devising 
and  proposing  questions  on  the  bible,  etc.,  in  the  instruc- 
tion of  his  school,  and  in  the  construction  of  his  catechet- 
ical works.  Hence,  too,  the  definiteness  and  precision  of 
his  knowledge  and  his  views  on  a  great  range  of  topics, 
where  most  men,  of  equal  powers,  have  only  vague  con- 
ceptions, or  half-formed  opinions.  His  reasons,  also,  for 
the  opinions  he  thus  formed,  were  always  at  hand. 

About  this  time,  he  purchased  the  works  of  Baxter, 
whom  he  ever  continued  to  admire  and  to  commend  from 
the  pulpit,  as  well  as  in  private.  Thus  he  expresses  him* 
self  on  this  acquisition  : 

Cambridge,  July  9,  1803. 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  great  Richard  Baxter  ?  This 
boast  of  English  protestants,  this  ornament  to  humanity, 
this  blessing  to  the  christian  church,  was  born  1615,  and 
died  1G91.  He  wrote  about  one  hundred  and  twenty 
books,  and  had  about  sixty  written  against  him.  A  few 
months  ago,  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  purchase  his 
"  Practical  Works,"  in  four  large  folio  volumes,  for  twelve 
dollars,  and  should  not  now  be  willing  to  sell  them  for 
double  the  money.  I  trust  God  has  put  these  writings  of 
his  faithful  servant  into  my  hands  with  a  design  to  make 
them  instrumental  of  good  to  my  soul,  and  to  the  souls  of 
those  over  whom  the  Holy  Ghost  may  make  me  an  overseer. 
I  read  him  with  admiration,  with  instruction,  and  sensible 
devotion.  In  many  respects,  he  seems  just  such  a  char- 
acter as  I  want  for  a  model.  It  is  not  for  me  to  think  of 
being  his  imitator  in  learning  ;  but  his  piety,  his  candor, 
his  zeal  and  labors  for  the  good  of  souls,  may  perhaps  in 
some  measure  be  imitated  even  by  me.     I  do  not  pretend^ 


INFLUENCE    OF    BAXTER    ON  101 

however,  at  present,  to  know  much  of  his  character — a 
character,  which,  as  a  man,  a  philosopher,  and  a  christian, 
I  feel  myself  bound  to  study  by  every  means  in  my  power. 

Cambridge,  July  12,  1803. 
Yesterday  I  walked  to  Boston,  preached  at  the  alms- 
house, and  walked  to  Cambridge  in  company  with  Mr.  F., 
and  found  myself  much  less  fatigued  than  I  had  reason  to 
fear.  Blessed  be  God,  that  I  have  such  a  degree  of 
health  and  bodily  firmness.  For  three  days  past,  I  think 
my  health  has  been  better  than  it  has  been  before  since 
last  autumn.  In  the  evening,  I  read  about  an  hour,  with 
much  satisfaction,  in  Baxter's  Reformed  Pastor.  I  grow 
more  and  more  delighted  with  reading  the  writings  of  this 
wonder  of  piety,  intelligence,  knowledge,  and  bodily  in- 
firmities. His  Reformed  Pastor  is  addressed  to  ministers, 
setting  forth  and  urging  the  duties  of  their  high  and  holy 
calling.  Much  of  it  seems  addressed  to  me  in  particular. 
And  doubtless,  God,  from  eternity,  intended  to  admonish 
me  of  my  duty  by  the  writings  of  this  godly  man.  O  that 
God  would  give  me  ears  to  hear,  and  strength  and  dispo- 
sition to  obey. 

The  thought,  that  every  admonition  we  receive,  was  in- 
tended by  God  from  eternity,  cannot  fail  deeply  to  impress 
every  contemplative  heart.  It  was  in  such  ways  that  the 
subject  of  this  Memoir  was  wont  to  improve  the  doctrine 
of  the  divine  purposes — a  very  practical  doctrine  surely  to 
those  who  have  a  heart  to  improve  it.  We  are  not  to  sup- 
pose he  considered  God  as  having  designed  this  reproof 
for  him  any  more  than  for  every  one  to  whom  it  should 
come  with  its  appropriate  application. 

One  of  the  most  important  inquiries  we  can  prosecute 
in  the  study  of  biography,  respects  the  progress  in  holiness, 
and  the  means  and  occasions  of  that  progress,  in  those 
from  whose  lives  we  are  seeking  instruction.  Prompted  by 
the  truth  of  this  remark,  I  must  suffer  my  brother  to  speak 
still  further  respecting  the  intimate  acquaintance  he  now 
began  to  cultivate  with  the  writings  of  Baxter.  I  cannot 
resist  the  belief,  that  from  about  this  period,  he  became 
much  more  zealously  devoted  to  the  cause  of  God  ;  nor  do 
I  doubt  th  poweerful  effect  of  these  writings  on  his  heart 
as  a  christian,  and  on  his  whole  style  of  preaching  and 
9* 


102  HIS    PIETY,    PREACHING, 

effort  as  a  gospel  minister.  Happy  was  the  day  when  he 
purchased  these  works  of  the  good  old  non-conformist. 
But  let  himself  speak  further  on  this  point. 

Cambridge,  July  13,  1803. 

My  worthy  N. — Blessed  be  God  for  the  health  I  en- 
joy; and  for  the  tranquillity  I  feel,  notwithstanding  the  pe- 
culiarly solemn  and  interesting  scenes  before  me.  I  trust 
my  tranquillity  is  not  stupid  indifference.  Though  I  have 
reason  for  deep  humiliation,  that  I  have  not  a  more  lively 
sense,  and  more  enlarged  views  of  what  it  is  to  be  a  faith- 
ful preacher  of  the  everlasting  gospel  ;  yet  I  can  say,  that 
my  thoughts  are  almost  wholly  taken  up  in  contemplating 
this  subject.  Of  these  things  and  my  N.,  I  can  meditate 
at  the  same  time ;  and  the  idea  of  each  seems  to  add  so- 
lemnity, animation,  and  endearment,  to  that  of  the  other, 
I  have  read  "  Baxter's  Reformed  Pastor,"  on  purpose  to 
enlarge  my  ideas,  and  to  animate  my  feelings,  respecting 
the  duties  and  importance  of  the  ministerial  work.  In 
this  work,  which  I  completed  last  evening,  I  have  found 
much  more  than  1  expected,  though  I  expected  much. 
Scarcely  ever  did  I  read  a  book  with  more  delight.  It 
has  taught  me  to  think  that  there  are  very  few  in  New- 
England,  who  deserve  the  name  of  christian  pastors ;  and 
that,  even  in  the  best  of  them,  there  is  need,  great  need, 
pressing  need  of  reformation.  It  has  taught  me  to  look 
back  upon  my  past  life  with  abhorrence.  How  many  op- 
portunities have  I  neglected,  when  I  might  have  done 
good  !  How  have  T  abused  my  talents,  and  murdered  my 
precious  time  !  How  idle  and  sluggish  have  I  been  since 
I  publicly  named  the  name  of  Christ,  and  even  since,  in 
a  solemn  and  important  sense,  I  entered  the  vineyard  of 
the  Lord  !  How  little  have  I  exerted  myself  to  prepare 
for  the  glorious  work  !  How  cold  have  been  my  public 
(and,  alas!  my  private)  addresses  to  God!  And  in  my 
sermons,  how  little  have  1  told  iny  hearers  about  Christ ; 
and  how  unfeelingly  has  that  little  been  uttered !  O,  my 
God,  let  not  these  sins  forever  separate  between  me  and 
thyself;  and  now  enable  me  solemnly  to  make  the  resolu- 
tion, to  awake  from  the  death  of  my  stupidity,  and  to  begin 
to  feel — begin  to  preach — begin  to  pray. 

I  have  also  read  Baxter's  long  sermon — his  farewell  ser- 
mon.    The  more  I  read  of  Baxter,  the  more  I  admire,  the 


STUDIES,    STYLE,    ETC. 


103 


more  I  love  him.  I  feel  almost  as  high  value  for  his 
works  as  I  do  for  my  Encyclopedia.  Scarcely  any  money 
would  tempt  me  to  spend  my  life  without  these  practical 
works.  Though  in  all  things  I  have  come  short,  yet  in 
attending  to  practical  and  devotional  works,  my  deficiency 
has  been  the  most  gross  and  aggravated.  I  now  hope,  in 
some  measure,  to  reform.  Let  those  who  like  it,  pursue 
the  speculative  sciences.  Though  1  would  not  undervalue 
these,  and  though  I  hope  hereafter  to  give  a  little  attention 
to  them  ;  yet,  at  present,  the  bible,  my  Baxter,  devotional 
poetry,  etc.,  are  the  books  for  me.  This  week,  however, 
I  shall  not  be  able  to  read  much  more  of  any  thing.  I 
have  now  almost  my  whole  afternoon's  sermon  to  write, 
my  answer  to  write,  college  duties  to  perform,  to  go  to 
Boston  to-morrow,  to  attend  the  singing-school,  and  on 
Saturday  to  Beverly.  And  this  I  hope  to  accomplish,  if 
God  continue  to  bless  me  with  the  vigor  I  now  feel,  unless 
I  should  be  called  off  by  some  unexpected  interruption. 

Perhaps  the  following  document  is  written  somewhat 
more  in  the  style,  and  spirit,  and  prolixity  of  Baxter,  than 
it  would  have  been  under  other  circumstances.  It  is  his 
answer  to  the  call  he  had  received  from  Beverly.  Though 
long,  and,  I  think,  not  a  model  for  imitation,  yet  I  shall 
quote  such  portions  of  it  as  contain  facts  of  interest  re- 
specting himself  and  that  infant  society,  or  express  his 
strong  feelings  on  discharging  so  solemn  a  responsibility 
as  that  of  deciding  the  question  before  him — a  question, 
doubtless,  on  which  were  suspended  the  eternal  interests 
of  many  souls. 

Cambridge,  July  15, 1803. 

TO    THE    CHURCH    AND  PEOPLE    OF    THE    THIRD    CONGREGA- 
TIONAL   SOCIETY    IN    REVERLY. 

Men,  Brethren,  and  Friends,  fellow  travellers  to  the  eternal  world  : 

You  have  invited  me  to  become  your  "  pastor  and 
teacher  ;"  to  take  the  oversight  of  your  immortal  interest ; 
to  watch,  to  labor,  to  pray,  for  the  good  of  your  souls,  and 
the  souls  of  your  little  ones.  But  who  has  the  qualifica- 
tions for  an  undertaking  so  important,  so  great,  so  difficult 
to  be  fulfilled  ?  Who  is  qualified  to  be  an  ambassador 
from  the  infinite  God  to  his  immortal  rebels  :  to  declare  to 


104  ANSWER    TO 

them  in  his  name  the  conditions  of  peace,  the  conditions 
of  glory;  to  denounce  his  eternal  vengeance,  if  they  re- 
fuse, if  they  neglect  his  great  salvation  ?  Who  is  qualified 
to  take  his  saints  by  the  hand,  and  lead  them  to  heaven  1 
To  be  commissioned,  by  the  King  of  kings,  with  the  offer 
of  mercy  and  eternal  life  to  one  immortal  soul,  even  the 
very  least  among  mankind,  v.ould  be  a  solemn,  an  awful 
employment.  To  instruct  a  single  saint — to  reprove,  to 
rebuke,  to  wain,  to  allure,  to  encourage,  to  train  up  for 
God,  a  single  saint,  must  be  a  great  and  arduous  work. 
If  but  a  single  individual  of  the  human  race  had  aposta- 
tized from  God,  and  exposed  himself  to  the  flames  of  an 
eternal  hell,  would  not  the  highest  angel,  would  not  Ga- 
briel himself,  consider  it  a  great  work  for  him  to  be  sent 
with  a  message  of  pardon  and  eternal  life  to  such  a  rebel, 
and  then,  if  penitent,  to  train  him  up  for  a  glorious  im- 
mortality 1  Would  not  the  angel  think  that  threescore 
years  and  ten  might  be  profitably  employed  for  such  an 
end  ?  Who,  then,  among  ail  the  creatures  of  God,  is  suf- 
ficient to  preach  the  everlasting  gospel  to  thousands  ;  and 
at  the  same  time,  to  feed  and  to  inspect,  to  guide  and  in- 
struct a  whole  church  of  christians  ? 

My  christian  friends,  you  know  something  of  my  infirm- 
ities. From  my  earliest  days  I  have  been  familiar  with 
bodily  indisposition,  with  sickness,  with  confinement.  By 
the  kind  and  wonderful  providence  of  God,  I  have  been 
kept  alive.  It  was  the  fear  of  my  friends,  and  has,  more 
than  once,  been  the  expectation  of  myself,  that  before  this 
time,  1  should  have  been  numbered  with  the  dead.  Bod- 
ily infirmities  have  sometimes  been  one  reason  that  I  have 
refused  to  preach  as  a  candidate  for  settling  in  the  gospel 
ministry.  But  I  have  other  infirmities,  greater  than  these. 
O!  wretched  man  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me  from 
this  body  of  sin,  this  load  of  ignorance,  this  weight  of  stu- 
pidity, this  hardness  of  heart,  this  spiritual  blindness,  this 
insensibility  to  the  worth  and  to  the  danger  of  immortal 
souls,  this  coldness  to  saints,  this  coldness  to  Christ,  this 
ingratitude  to  God  ? 

What  then  am  I,  that  you  should  think  of  me  for  your 
minister,  to  go  out  and  in  before  you,  to  set  you  a  pattern 
of  holy  living,  to  be  an  example  to  you  in  word,  in  con- 
versation, in  charity,  in  spirit,  in  faith,  and  in  purity  ;  to 
visit  and  pray  with  you  in  sickness  ;  to  rejoice  in  your  joys, 


HIS    CALL.  105 

and  wcop  at  your  tears  ;  to  comfort  you  in  affliction,  to 
speak  to  you  the  words  of  Jehovah,  whether  you  will  hear 
or  forbear  ;  to  lead  in  your  public  devotions ;  to  break  for 
you  the  bread,  and  pour  out  for  you  the  wine,  of  life  ;  to 
take  the  charge  of  your  souls? 

Surely  I  had  fainted,  my  soul  would  have  been  cast 
down  and  utterly  dismayed,  unless  I  had  believed  to  see 
the  goodness  of  God,  to  receive  the  protection  of  his  arm, 
and  enjoy  his  gracious  assistance. 

And  now  can  I  forbear  saying  from  the  heart — Here, 
Lord,  am  I,  do  with  me  what  seemeth  thee  good  ?  What 
then  is  the  voice  of  Providence? 

The  invitation  to  settle  with  you  in  the  gospel  ministry, 
has  occupied  a  large  proportion  of  my  thoughts  since  I 
received  it.  It  has  been  my  meditation  day  and  night.  I 
have  endeavored  to  consider  the  subject  seriously  and 
closely  ;  though  I  have  reason  with  shame  to  confess,  not 
according  to  its  awfid  importance.  I  have  also  asked 
counsel  of  christian  friends,  and  endeavored  to  ask  counsel 
of  the  Lord.  I  have  considered  the  rise  of  this  society; 
the  harmony  of  your  separation  ;  the  smiles  of  Providence 
upon  you  in  building  and  dedicating  this  very  commodi- 
ous house  of  worship  ;  in  short,  the  remarkable  and  speedy 
success  of  all  your  undertakings  relating  to  this  solemn 
matter.  I  have  considered  the  liberality  of  your  offers.  I 
have  considered  this  as  an  unequivocal  expression  of  the 
affection,  the  cordiality,  the  uncommon  unanimity,  which 
you  have  professed  ;  and  which,  as  many  as  have  had  op- 
portunity, have  otherwise  manifested  toward  me. 

From  a  consideration  of  these  and  a  variety  of  other 
circumstances,  I  have  drawn  the  conclusion,  that  if  there 
be  a  place  on  earth  where  I  can  be  useful,  it  is  probably 
here.  And  I  exceedingly  rejoice  in  feeling  so  well  per- 
suaded that  God  has  called  me  to  labor  among  you  ;  and 
that  it  is  my  duty  to  answer  your  request  in  the  affirma- 
tive. 

Beloved,  I  need  your  prayers.  I  feel  my  imperfections; 
I  feel  my  weaknesses.  I  feel  that  I  am  a  child.  You 
know  something  of  the  greatness  and  importance  and  dif- 
ficulty of  my  expected  labors.  You  know  where  I  must 
look  for  help  ;  and  where  you  also  should  look,  that  I  may 
beenabled  and  assisted  to  discharge,  with  fidelity  and  suc- 
cess, all  the  duties  before  me.     You  know,  my  christian 


10G  CHURCH    IN    BEVERLY. 

friends,  who  it  is,  that  hath  left  a  promise  to  his  faithful 
ministers  to  be  with  them  alway,  even  unto  the  end  of  the 
world. 

And  when  the  world  shall  be  on  fire,  when  the  heav- 
ens shall  be  rolling  together  as  a  scroll,  and  the  elements 
melt  with  fervent  heat,  that  we  may  be  caught  up  to- 
gether with  all  the  saints  to  meet  the  Lord  in  the  air, 
and  so  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord,  is  the  prayer  of  your 
unworthy  friend  and  servant  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

Joseph  Emerson. 

This  church  is  said  to  be  the  second,  if  not  indeed  the 
first,  which  was  formed  in  this  state  in  consequence  of 
the  recent  defections  from  ancient  doctrine.  It  was  or- 
ganized, Nov.  9,  18C2,  by  a  council  consisting  of  Dr. 
Hopkins  of  Salem,  and  three  other  ministers.  Instead  of 
taking  members  from  the  old  church  to  form  the  new 
one,  four  men  of  reputable  piety,  residing  in  the  place, 
but,  as  it  would  seem  from  the  church  records,  not  yet 
connected  with  any  church,  were  formed  into  a  church 
by  adopting  a  covenant  and  creed,  etc.  When  thus 
formed,  the  way  was  prepared  for  such  members  of  the 
old  church  as  chose  it,  to  ask  a  dismission  and  recom- 
mendation to  the  new  one  ;  and  many  were  found,  from 
time  to  time,  to  avail  themselves  of  the  privilege.  The 
history  of  this  church  and  people,  is  deeply  interesting  in 
a  variety  of  particulars  ,  but  we  have  no  space  for  it  here. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that  they  have  continued  to  increase  in 
numbers  and  influence,  down  to  the  present  time,  not- 
withstanding the  legislative  impediments  early  thrown  in 
their  way  and  many  other  trials  in  later  periods. 

Returning  to  my  brother,  let  us  see  how  his  heart  flew 
with  fresh  zeal  to  the  bible,  in  view  of  his   approaching 

charge  of  souls. 

Cambridge    July  20,  1C03. 

Within  nine  weeks  from  this  day,  I  expect  to  be  set 
apart  to  the  glorious  work.  O  that  I  were  qualified! 
Never  before  was  I  so  sensible  of  my  ignorance  of  the 
things  of  religion.  My  grossest  ignorance  is  of  the  scrip- 
tures. I  think  a  preacher  should  not  only  understand  the 
scriptures,  but  also  be  able  to  repeat  the  most  important 
and  striking  passages,  doctrinal  and  practical.  How 
great  is  my  deficiency  in   both  respects  ?     What  can   be 


STUDY    OF    THE    BIBLE.  107 

done?  I  have  much  to  do.  Very  soon  I  expect  to  have 
the  charge  of  souls.  I  have  now  to  perform  college  du- 
ties, write  sermons,  preach,  and  attend  to  music.  The 
sermon  that  1  mentioned,  should  employ  at  least  four 
weeks  of  intense  application  ;  and  it  ought  to  be  completed 
before  ordination.  But  the  bible,  the  bible,  must  be  read. 
Is  it  not  time  for  me  to  awake  ?  And  I  must  awake. 
I  have  almost  completed  Exodus.  I  must  complete 
Revelation  before  commencement.  To-day  and  to-mor- 
row I  will  devote  to  the  bible.  O  that  nothing  may 
divert  me  from  a  rigorous  and  persevering  application  to 
the  precious  pages.  I  cannot  at  this  time  read  the  bible 
so  thoroughly  as  I  should  wish.  At  present,  it  appears 
better  to  read  over  the  whole  as  well  as  I  can,  than  to 
read  a  part  only  ;  though  with  more  attention.  My  pre- 
sent object  is,  to  collect  passages  which  define,  inculcate, 
or  enforce  the  duties  of  ministers  and  people  toward  each 
other.  I  must  therefore,  if  possible,  go  through  with  the 
bible  before  I  begin  to  write  the  above-mentioned  sermon. 
I  have  likewise  another  object.  I  am  so  ignorant  of  the 
bible,  that  I  sometimes  find  passages  that  appear  quite 
new.  Such  passages  I  determine  to  transcribe  and  study, 
and  endeavor  to  fix  in  my  mind,  that  they  may  never  ap- 
pear new  again.  The  same  method  I  recommend  to  you, 
if  you  are  ever  so  unhappy  as  to  find  any  thing  in  the 
bible  that  you  do  not  recollect  to  have  seen  before. 
Surely,  it  must  be  highly  dishonorable  to  a  minister,  and 
may  obstruct  his  usefulness,  if  he  were  not  able  to  tell 
whether  any  passage  or  expression  that  he  might  hear, 
were  in  the  bible  or  not.  And  a  minister's  wife  might 
find  more  satisfaction  in  being  able  to  tell  the  place  and 
connection  and  meaning  of  any  passage  that  might  be 
the  topic  of  conversation,  than  in  being  silent,  or  confess- 
ing that  she  had  forgotten  there  was  such  a  text  in  the 
bible.  I  have  not  yet  given  up  the  idea  of  committing  to 
memory  all  the  most  important  parts  of  scripture.  I  in- 
tend to  read  the  bible  through  two  or  three  times  before 
I  read  much  in  any  other  book,  that  the  precious  word 
may  always  be  uppermost  in  my  mind.  Dear  immortal, 
let  us  not  forget  to  seek  the  Lord,  that  he  would  open  our 
understandings  to  understand  his  holy  word,  and  to 
work  within  us  to  will  and   to  do  of  his  own  good  plea- 


108  SECRET    PRAYER,    ETC. 

sure,  and  honor  us  as  instruments  of  actively  promoting 
his  glorious  designs.  J.  Emerson. 

For  some  days  at  this  period,  he  enjoyed  uncommonly 
good  health,  religious  comfort,  fine  spirits,  and  "  ;i  vigor 
of  mind  that  he  never  before  experienced  ;"  and  as  a 
very  natural  concomitant  for  him,  he  made  rapid  progress 
in  study.  Take  the  following  as  a  favorable  specimen  of 
a  day's  work.  It  is  addressed  to  the  same  person  as  was 
the  above. 

Cambridge,  July  21,  1803. 

Yesterday  I  did  more  than  usual.  Besides  all  1  wrote 
to  you,  I  attended  government  meeting  nearly  two  hours, 
and  singing  school  about  as  long ;  received  a  short  visit 
from  Miss  H.  Adams's  father  who  brought  me  a  letter — a 
very  short  letter,  and  I  returned  one  about  as  long ;  read 
Watts's  Divine  Songs  for  children,  a  pamphlet  of  thirty- 
six  pages  with  which  I  was  considerably  pleased,  and 
read  forty  pages  in  my  bible,  containing  a  few  chapters 
in  Exodus,  the  whole  of  Leviticus,  and  a  few  in  Num- 
bers. 

I    cannot   feel   justified  in  withholding  the    following. 

August  2,  1803. 
Determined  to  spend  more  time  in  self-examination  and 
secret  devotion — to  spend  a  season  in  my  closet  after 
breakfast,  after  dinner,  and  just  before  retiring  to  rest  at 
night ;  besides  occasionally  speaking  to  God  for  assistance 
in  whatever  I  may  be  about  to  engage,  and  giving  thanks 
to  his  name  for  his  mercies  received,  and  committing  my- 
self to  the  care  of  the  great  Shepherd  when  I  lay  my 
head  upon  my  pillow,  and  lifting  up  my  soul  in  grateful 
acknowledgment  to  Him  when  I  awake  in  the  morning. 
How  awfully  have  I  neglected  secret  prayer  !  It  is  as- 
tonishing that  God  should  suffer  such  a  cold,  hard-heart- 
ed, ungrateful,  rebellious  wretch  to  live.  What  was 
Sodom's  guilt  to  mine  ?  What  a  wonder  of  wonders  is  it, 
that  God  should  sometimes  grant  me  such  enlargement 
and  divine  delight  in  leading  the  devotions  of  others, 
when  I  am  so  backward  to  pray  to  him  in  secret,  and  to 
ask  him  for  that  assistance  without  which  I  can  do  noth- 


DIARY. 


109 


ing.    He  rewards  me  openly,  though  I  so  very  rarely,  and 
so  coldly,  and  so  formally  pray  to  him  in  secret. 

Great  God,  and  shall  I  ever  live 
At  this  poor  dying  rate  1  etc. 

Since  I  saw  you,  I  have  felt  considerable  reluctance  to 
record  the  exercises  of  my  mind.  But  blessed  be  God, 
this  reluctance  has  almost  ceased  to  trouble  me. 

This  morning  I  arose  a  little  before  the  bell  rung  for 
prayers.  What  a  hypocrite  have  I  been  in  the  chapel; 
and  how  few  real  petitions,  confessions,  or  thanksgivings 
have  there  ascended  from  my  heart  to  God !  How  beauti- 
ful is  the  morning!  How  delightfully  do  the  majestic 
elms  and  the  aspiring  poplars  bow  their  heads,  as  if  in 
adoration  of  their  maker;  and  how  does  all  nature  around 
them  join  in  anthems  of  praise.  O  my  soul,  thou  canst 
offer  him  a  rational  praise.  Wilt  thou,  canst  thou  re- 
main discordant?  Will  not  the  stones  cry  out  and  the 
sweet  songsters  of  the  grove  rise  up  in  judgment  and  con- 
demn thee  ?  O  my  God,  I  will  praise  thee  in  my  closet, 
I  will  praise  thee  as  I  journey,  I  will  praise  thee  with  my 
heart's  delight,  in  company  of  friends  will  I  praise  thee, 
in  the  congregration  will  I  bow  before  my  God  and  sing 
praises  to  the  Most  High.  Praise  him  all  ye  lands  ;  praise 
him  all  ye  people ;  praise  him  all  ye  angels ;  praise  him 
all   creation.     Bless  the  Lord,  O   ray   soul. 

August  3,  1803. 

Yesterday  I  derived  more  satisfaction  in  secret  devotion 
than  perhaps  any  other  day  of  my  life.  In  reading  the 
bible,  I  found  great  delight  in  praying  at  the  end  of  every 
chapter  ;  and  was  surprised  to  find  myself,  each  time, 
furnished  with  so  good  a  subject  from  the  chapter  I  had 
read,  as  my  reading  was  in  Chronicles. 

What  a  deep  and  exhaustless  fountain  is  the  bible  ! 
The  historical  parts  of  the  Old  Testament,  are  full  of 
instruction.  The  evening  I  spent  at  Mr.  B.'s  ;  and  I  fear 
not  very  profitably ;  for  when  I  returned  to  my  room  after 
ten,  I  could  not  pray,  I  had  not  maintained  a  praying 
spirit. 

Cambridge,  Aug.  19,  1303. 

My  stated  devotions  and  reading  the  scriptures  become 
more  and  more  my  pleasure.     I  do  not  now  consider  it 
10 


110  DIARY. 

my  duty  to  spend  the  whole  day  in  reading  the  good  word 
and  prayer ;  but  I  do  feel  it  to  be  my  duty  to  devote  con- 
siderable time  to  this  delightful  employment.  When  one 
season  is  past,  I  seem  to  long  for  the  arrival  of  another. 
I  have  now  determined  to  read  eighteen  instead  of  fif- 
teen pages  a  day  in  the  bible.  At  this  rate,  I  shall  read 
the  bible  four  times  in  little  less  than  a  year.  My 
thoughts  this  morning,  have  been  engaged  considerably 
upon  lecturing  youth  from  the  assembly's  catechism — 
upon  preaching  systematically — and  church  conferences, 
I  am  determined,  by  the  divine  permission  and  assistance, 
to  read  the  bible  four  times  according  to  my  present  plan, 
then  diminishing  the  daily  portion  by  one  half,  to  read  it 
to  form  a  common-place  book — and  then  to  spend  about 
the  same  time  in  reading  the  bible  and  making  short  com- 
ments upon  each  chapter:  and  also,  within,  perhaps, three 
or  four  years,  having  read  as  many  systems  of  divinity  as 
possible,  and  well  adjusted  a  plan  in  my  own  head,  and 
purchased  those  books  not  now  in  my  possession  which  I 
may  wish  to  read  or  consult — to  begin  my  systematic 
preaching.  Is  it  not  foolish  and  vain  for  me  to  form  plans 
like  these.  O  !  my  heavenly  Father,  whether  I  should 
be  able  to  execute  any  of  these  plans  or  not,  may  I  at  all 
times  devote  my  every  talent  to  thy  service  and  be  instru- 
mental of  doing  much  good  in  the  world.  But  how  can 
one  so  ignorant  expect  to  be  an  instrument  in  the  instruc- 
tion of  others?  O  Father  of  lights!  enlighten  my  mind 
and  strengthen  my  understanding.  O  God,  thou  canst 
do  great  things  by  feeble  means.  Thou  canst  accomplish 
thy  glorious  purposes,  thou  canst  perform  thy  wondrous 
works  by  such  a  rebel,  by  such  a  worm  as  I. 

12  7'.  [i.  e.  7  minutes  past  1"2.]  Unstable  as  water; 
fickle  as  the  changeful  breeze !  What  nonsense  for  me 
to  form  so  great  plans,  when  I  do  not  execute  those  that 
are  small  and  easy.  It  was  my  intention  to  have  begun 
my  sermon  this  morning  to  preach  at  Beverly  the  Sabbath 
after  next.  I  have  not  even  written  my  text.  What  else 
have  I  done?  why  nothing  ;  almost  nothing.  It  seems  as 
though  the  evil  spirit  kept  me  from  beginning  my  sermon. 
This  is  not  the  first  time.  It  has  been  so  with  almost 
every  sermon  I  have  written.  It  was  my  intention  to 
finish  my  sermon  this  week.  But  now  it  is  impossible. 
The  day  is  more  than  half  spent.     Government   business 


DIARY.  Ill 

calls  my  attention  this  afternoon,  and  other  business  in 
the  evening.  Even  if  I  were  disposed,  it  is  now  too  late 
to  think  of  doing  any  thing  at  sermonizing  to-day.  Well, 
to-morrow  !  to-morrow  !  How  shall  I  dare  calculate  upon 
to-morrow,  when  I  have  been  so  stupidly  lazy  to-day  !  O ! 
my  soul  !  is  this  thy  diligence,  is  this  thy  zeal  for  the 
Lord  of  hosts  ?     O  my  God  !  quicken  me  to  do  my  duty. 

From  the  above,  it  seems  manifest,  that  he  was  now 
making  a  rapid  advance  in  pious  feeling  as  well  as  in 
knowledge.  His  recent  devotedness  to  the  bible  and  to 
Baxter,  was  doubtless  one  great  cause  of  this  improve- 
ment :  another  was  the  solemn  charge  he  was  about  to 
assume.  The  secular  studies  of  a  college  course,  have 
seldom  been  found  congenial  to  piety.  President  Ed- 
wards and  many  others  have  especially  complained  of  the 
paralysing  influence  of  a  tutor's  life. 

The  kind  of  intercourse  between  college  tutors  and 
their  pupils,  so  reserved,  so  official,  so  destitute  of  heart, 
is  probably  often  found  more  pernicious  than  the  nature 
of  their  studies.  Both  of  these  causes  doubtless  had  their 
effect  on  my  brother's  mind,  though  probably  less  than  on 
many  others  in  like  circumstances.  He  diminished  in  a 
degree  this  unnatural  distance  between  him  and  the  com- 
munity of  mortals  by  whom  he  was  surrounded,  and 
thus  found  more  scope  for  religious  sympathy  ;  he  pur- 
sued science  as  a  guide  to  the  knowledge  of  God's  works  ; 
and  he  was  also  engaged,  for  a  portion  of  the  time,  in 
preaching.  Still,  even  the  near  prospect  of  a  change  to 
the  happiest  occupation  this  side  of  heaven,  the  occu- 
pation of  a  christian  pastor,  fired  his  soul  with  an  ardor 
unknown  before,  while  it  also  filled  him  with  humility 
and  self-distrust. 

At  the  termination  of  the  academic  year,  he  resigned 
his  office  in  the  college ;  and  the  solemnities  of  his  ordi- 
nation at  Beverly  took  place  the  ensuing  month,  viz. 
Sept.  21,  1803. 


CHAPTER    IV. 


VIEWS      OF      HIS      CHARACTER      AS      DEVELOPED      AT     THIS 
PERIOD. 

Communications  from  Dr.  Charming — President  Chopin 
Judge  Story — Judge  White — and  Dr.  Emmons. 

I  shall  here  present  the  reader  with  some  valuable  com- 
munications, for  which  I  trust  he  will  unite  with  me  in 
grateful  acknowledgments  to  their  kind  and  respected 
authors.  Desirous  of  minute  and  authentic  information  on 
several  parts  of  my  brother's  life,  which  did  not  corne  so 
immediately  under  my  own  notice,  I  addressed  letters  of 
inquiry  to  a  number  of  his  acquaintances,  respecting  those 
portions  in  which  they  were  conversant  with  him.  I  take 
it  for  granted,  that  they  will  not  complain  of  me  for  mak- 
ing such  use  of  their  communications,  whether  by  extracts 
or  summaries,  as  may  seem  best  to  comport  with  my  pres- 
ent plan.  Of  those  which  I  shall  here  present,  the  first  is 
from  Rev.  Dr.  Channing,  who  was  a  classmate  with  him 
at  college. 

Bosto?i,  Noo.  7, 1833. 

Dear  Sir, — Your  brother's  life  was  so  uniform,  at  col- 
lege, that  nothing,  which  can  be  called  an  event,  remains 
in  my  memory.  His  habits  were  so  studious,  that  he 
mixed  little  with  the  class.  I  had  not  much  intercourse 
with  him.  He  devoted  himself  to  the  severer  studies. 
His  conduct  was  irreproachable,  and  his  manners  so  in- 
offensive, that,  whilst  he  fell  into  none  of  the  more  com- 
mon excesses  of  that  time,  he  met  no  opposition  from 
those  who  yielded  to  them.  I  was  with  him  afterwards,  a 
short  time,  in  the  government  of  the  college.     He  sue- 


DR.    CHANN1NG. DK.    CIIAPIN.  113 

ceeded  in  securing  the  good  will  of  the  students.  It 
seemed  to  me,  that  your  brother's  character  became  more 
interesting  after  he  left  college.  His  affections,  if  they 
were  not  untblded  more  freely,  at  least  showed  themselves 
more.  I  was  not  led,  by  my  early  acquaintance,  to  expect 
from  him  that  ardor  with  which  he  afterwards  devoted 
himself  to  noble  objects. — It  will  gratify  me  to  see  your 
memoir  of  him.  You  are  happy  in  having  had  such  a 
brother,  and  the  office  of  recording  his  worth  must  be  a 
consolation  for  his  loss. 

Very  truly  yours, 

Wm.  E.  Channing. 

The  next  is  from  our  friend  and  family  connexion, 
Rev.  Dr.  Chapin,  President  of  the  Columbian  College  at 
Washington.  I  shall  here  insert  only  that  part  of  his 
communication  which  relates  to  the  present  period,  re- 
serving the  remainder  for  its  appropriate  place. 

College  Hill,  (D.  C.J  Oct.  18, 1833. 

Very  Dear  Brother, — I  know  nothing  of  special 
moment  respecting  brother  Joseph,  while  he  was  a  student 
in  Cambridge,  as  he  graduated,  I  believe,  in  1798,  and  I 
entered  two  years  after,  in  1800.  He  was  appointed  tutor 
of  mathematics,  geography,  and  natural  philosophy,  in 
1801.  At  that  time,  Harvard  University  was  professedly 
orthodox.  The  faculty*  of  government  and  instruction 
then  consisted  of  President  Willard,  Dr.  Tappan,  Dr. 
Pearson,  Prof.  Webber,  Tutors  Hedge,  White,  Farrar, 
and  Clapp,  and  Sidney  Willard,  Librarian.  The  unita- 
rian controversy  had  indeed  commenced,  but  it  was  con- 
fined to  a  narrow  circle,  and  had  not  begun  to  excite  any 
general  agitation  among  the  churches.  So  far  as  religious 
controversy  was  concerned,  it  was  a  time  of  tranquillity 
within  the  walls  of  the  college.  But  though  the  institu- 
tion was  nominally  sound  in  the  faith,  yet  the  vigor  of  its 
early  piety  was  quite  extinct,  and  the  college,  consecrated 
by  our  puritan  fathers  with  so  much  fervor  to  Christ  and 
his  church,  had  ceased  to  exert  a  powerful  influence  in  the 
cause  of  troth  and  holiness.  The  fact  that  the  college 
then  wore  the  Calvin istic  dress,  and  that  the  Socinian 
controversy  was  then  just  beginning,  may  be  the  reason 
why  your  brother's  religious  life  was  not  then  more  prom- 
10* 


114  LETTER    FROM 

inent.  I  cannot  recollect  any  distinguished  part  which  he 
took  in  the  cause  of  religion.  But  a  student  at  that  col- 
lege, where  the  distance  between  him  and  the  government 
was  so  stately,  is  but  a  poor  judge  respecting  the  piety  and 
zeal  of  any  of  its  members.  Yoa  will  not,  therefore,  be 
much  influenced  by  what  1  say  respecting  his  life  while 
a  teacher  in  that  seminary.  But  though  I  do  not  recollect 
any  leading  part  which  he  took  in  the  religious  concerns 
of  the  college,  yet  I  well  remember  the  general  opinion 
among  the  students  was,  that  he  was  a  young  man  of  more 
than  ordinary  piety. 

Your  brother,  while  tutor,  began  to  display  those  pecu- 
liar gifts,  which  since  have  so  strongly  marked  his  char- 
acter. He  was  then  an  enthusiast  on  the  subject  of  edu- 
cation. He  possessed  in  an  eminent  degree  the  talent  to 
awaken  and  rightly  guide  youthful  curiosity  in  the  pursuit 
of  knowledge.  He  always  was  perfect  master  of  the  reci- 
tation, and  was  very  ingenious  in  expedients  to  illustrate 
and  impress  it  upon  the  mind  of  the  class.  By  his  unwea- 
ried and  successful  efforts  to  advance  them  in  their  stud- 
ies, he  secured  their  respect  and  affection. 

The  reader  is  next  presented  with  a  letter  from  Hon. 
Judge  Story. 

Cambridge,  Nov.  23,  1833. 

Your  brother,  the  late  Rev.  Joseph  Emerson,  was  my 
classmate,  and  as  such,  could  not  but  be  known  to  me. 
But  in  truth,  I  had  a  good  deal  of  acquaintance  with  him 
during  our  collegiate  course,  and  possessed  his  friendship, 
as  I  believe,  in  a  high  degree.  Our  pursuits  and  interests 
were  in  many  respects  similar;  and  kindred  feelings  soon 
give  rise  in  youth  to  kindred  interchanges  of  thoughts. 
Both  of  us  loved  poetry;  both  of  us  loved  mathematics  ; 
both  of  us  loved  metaphysics  ;  and  both  of  us  were  dili- 
gent students;  and  for  one  year  we  lived  on  the  same 
floor  of  one  of  the  college  houses.  But,  passing  from 
these  general  remarks,  let  me  tell  you,  as  well  as  I  can, 
what  were  the  outlines  of  his  character,  when  I  chiefly 
knew  him.  1  believe  I  retained  his  friendship  until  his 
death  ;  but  our  pursuits  were  so  diverse,  that  we  rarely 
met  after  we  left  college.  What  I  shall  say,  then,  chiefly 
belongs  to  the  recollections  of  our  college  life. 


JUDGE    STORY.  115 

One  of  the  first  things  that  struck  me  on  making  his 
acquaintance,  was  his  seriousness,  his  enthusiasm,  his  sin- 
cerity, and  his  love  of  literature.  He  was  very  diligent  in 
all  his  studies  ;  prompt,  regular,  and  exact  in  all  his  du- 
ties ;  and,  in  purity  of  life  and  conduct,  surpassed  by  none. 
He  gradually  rose  to  high  distinction  in  his  class,  enjoying 
the  reputation  of  successful  scholarship,  and  clear  and 
forcible  judgment.  His  favorite  studies  were  mathematics 
and  metaphysics.  In  the  former  he  was  not  excelled  by 
any  of  his  classmates  ;  and,  unless  my  memory  misleads 
me,  he  and  I  were  the  only  persons  in  the  class  who  had 
mathematical  parts  assigned,  at  the  college  exhibitions, 
in  addition  to  our  other  honors  upon  the  like  occa- 
sions. But  his  mind  was  chiefly  devoted  to  metaphysics, 
connecting  itself,  as  it  naturally  did,  with  ethics;  and  he 
took  the  greatest  delight  in  friendly  argumentation  upon 
the  leading  topics  in  Locke's  Essay  on  the  Human  Under- 
standing, which  was  then  one  of  our  class  books.  It  was 
somewhat  singular,  that  he  should  unite  with  such  ab- 
stract studies  a  great  enthusiasm  for  poetry.  He  would 
read  aloud  to  me  many  exquisite  passages  from  Pope,  and 
comment  upon  them  with  a  clearness  and  delicacy,  which 
showed  his  soul  to  be  attuned  to  harmony  of  the  highest 
order.  I  am  not  certain,  but  I  believe  he  occasionally 
wrote  poetical  effusions  ;  though  his  modesty  was  such, 
that  he  seldom  allowed  his  friends  to  read  them.  In  his 
manners,  he  was  unobtrusive  and  shy,  rarely  seeking  to 
open  his  heart,  except  to  those  who  sought  it.  But  those 
who  enjoyed  the  privileges  of  intimacy  with  him,  knew 
him  to  be  ardent  and  pure,  possessing  social  affections  and 
religious  principles  of  the  most  elevated  nature.  When 
we  were  graduated,  he  had  a  forensic  assigned  to  him, 
which  was  then  esteemed  among  the  highest  of  our  aca- 
demical exercises. 

I  think,  even  at  that  period,  there  was  occasionally  a 
melancholy  about  him,  which  he  sought  to  subdue  by  se- 
vere study  or  lively  conversation.  But  I  can  truly  say  of 
him,  in  the  language  of  one  of  his  favorite  poets,  even  then, 

"  That  all  his  serious  thoughts  had  rest  in  heaven." 

Without  detaining  you  with  farther  details, — for  his 
college  course  was  one  uninterrupted  course  of  blameless 


116  LETTER    FROM 

virtue, — I  may  add,  that  he  impressed  me  with  a  high 
sense  of  the  value  of  his  character,  his  attainments,  and 
his  talents.  I  treasured  up  his  friendship,  while  living, 
as  a  source  of  pride  and  pleasure,  and  his  death  was  deeply 
felt  by  me  as  a  public  as  well  as  a  private  calamity. 
1  am,  with  great  respect, 

Your  obliged  servant, 

Joseph  Story. 

The  following  is  from  Hon.  Judge  "White,  of  Salem, 

Mass. 

Salem,  Nov.  7,  1833, 
Dear  Sir, — I  am  very  glad  to  learn  that  you  are  pre- 
paring a  memoir  of  your  late  lamented  brother,  whose 
active  virtues  and  elevated  principles  of  conduct,  through 
life,  will  render  any  just  memoir  of  him  a  valuable  gift  to 
the  public,  as  well  as  a  precious  memorial  to  his  friends. 
I  wish  it  were  in  my  power  to  recall  to  memory  more 
facts  than  I  find  I  can,  which  would  throw  light  on  his 
history  and  character,  during  that  portion  of  life  about 
which  you  particularly  inquire.  I  knew  him  as  an  under- 
graduate at  Cambridge,  being  but  one  year  before  him  in 
college,  and  I  well  recollect  that  he  held  a  high  rank  in 
his  class  as  a  scholar,  and  that  he  was  universally  regard- 
ed as  a  young  man  of  a  pure  and  amiable  mind  and 
character.  I  knew  him  again  more  intimately,  as  a  tutor 
at  the  same  place,  to  the  best  of  my  recollection,  about 
two  years.  In  the  mean  time,  he  had  studied  divinity,  1 
think,  with  the  celebrated  Dr.  Emmons,  and  had  deeply 
imbibed  his  peculiar  sentiments  in  theology  ;  in  which,  as 
I  could  not  sympathize  with  him,  there  was  not,  of 
course,  that  kind  of  intimacy  in  our  acquaintance,  which 
such  a  sympathy  might  have  produced.  This  may  ac- 
count to  you,  in  some  measure,  for  my  being  unable  to 
communicate  such  particular  information  and  character- 
istic anecdotes  as  you  would  naturally  expect  from  one 
associated  with  him  in  office,  as  I  was  at  that  period.  I 
would  not,  however,  be  understood  as  implying  that  there 
was  any  want  of  cordiality  in  our  general  intercourse,  in 
consequence  of  the  difference  of  opinion  between  us  on 
religious  subjects.  This  was  so  far  from  being  the  case, 
that,  perhaps,  this  very  difference  led  me  to  a  still  higher 


JUDGE    WHITE.  117 

estimate  of  his  character,  as  it  served  to  develope  some 
traits  of  excellence,  which  might  otherwise  have  remained 
concealed  from  me.  No  one  more  truly  appreciated  free- 
dom of  thought,  inquiry,  and  discussion,  than  he  did; 
and  the  privilege  which  he  so  highly  prized  himself,  he 
was  willing  to  allow  in  the  fullest  extent,  to  others.  He 
was  liberal  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word,  and  always  so 
kind  and  considerate  in  conversing  upon  controverted 
points,  that  he  was  never  known  to  indulge  himself  in 
that  warmth  of  expression  and  manner,  which  is  so  apt 
to  take  place  in  the  course  of  such  discussions,  even 
among  friends,  and  which,  sometimes,  leaves  impressions 
alike  unfavorable  to  truth  and  good  feeling.  1  can  recol- 
lect nothing  of  this  nature  in  all  my  intercourse  with  him, 
which  had  the  slightest  tendency  to  lessen  the  regard 
which  I  felt  for  him,  or  the  pleasure  which  I  took  in  his 
conversation.  He  was  uniformly  as  candid  and  just 
towards  others,  as  he  was  constant  and  faithful  to  his  own 
convictions  of  truth  and  duty.  I  do  not  believe  that  a 
single  ill  feeling  was  ever  produced  among  his  associates 
or  pupils  at  Cambridge,  by  any  thing  which  he  was  Led  to 
say  or  do  in  consequence  of  his  peculiar  doctrines,  how- 
ever widely  they  might  differ  from  him  in  their  view,  or 
however  decidedly  he  might  manifest  his  own.  His  re- 
ligious sentiments  were  evidently  the  result  of  deep  and 
conscientious  inquiry,  and  his  whole  conduct  and  deport- 
ment appeared  to  be  guided  by  rules  and  principles,  in- 
finitely above  those  of  any  earthly  tribunal,  or  worldly 
consideration.  By  his  associates  who  well  understood 
his  character  and  worth,  he  could  not  fail  to  be  listened 
to  and  treated  with  respect,  whatever  peculiarities  might 
at  any  time  mark  his  opinions  or  manner.  Without  the 
least  affectation  of  singularity,  he  was  in  some  respects 
singular,  as  well  as  truly  original  ;  but  all  his  peculiarities 
leaned  to  virtue's  side,  and  were  so  blended  with  his 
natural  benevolence,  gentleness  of  disposition,  and  child- 
like simplicity,  that  none  but  tender  and  respectful  feel- 
ings could  be  indulged  towards  him.  Hence  any  little 
eccentricities,  which  in  others  might  attract  the  ridicule 
of  college  boys,  in  him  would  pass  unheeded,  or  excite 
only  a  smile  of  respectful  sympathy.  He  was,  I  believe, 
at  all  times,  while  a  tutor  at  Cambridge,  a  favorite  with 
his  pupils. 


118  LETTER    FROM 

But  I  am  losing  sight  of  the  particular  object  of  your 
inquiry,  the  manner  in  which  he  discharged  his  duties  as 
a  tutor  in  the  University.  Soon  after  he  entered  upon 
these  duties,  if  not  before,  he  commenced  preaching.  I 
recollect  accompanying  him  at  Charlestown,  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  year  1801,  when  he  delivered  an  evening  lec- 
ture from  the  words  of  Micah,  "  Ye  have  taken  away  my 
Gods,  and  what  have  I  more  ?"  This  must  have  been 
one  of  his  earliest  discourses  from  the  pulpit,  and  I 
clearly  remember  the  favorable  impression  it  made  upon 
me  of  his  powers  as  a  preacher.  It  was  at  that  period 
customary  for  tutors  who  were  candidates  for  the  minis- 
try, to  preach  occasionally  in  neighboring  churches. 
Your  brother,  if  I  mistake  not,  was  engaged  in  this  way 
most  of  the  Sabbaths  while  he  was  a  tutor ;  which  of 
course  took  him  from  all  care  of  the  students  on  such 
days,  and  might  have  been  one  reason  why  he  was  gen- 
erally less  disposed  to  take  an  active  part  in  respect  to 
governing  the  students,  than  he  was  in  the  duties  of  in- 
struction ;  though  these  were  doubtless  far  more  con- 
genial with  his  feelings  and  habits,  than  the  cares  of  gov- 
ernment. Yet  he  was  not  wanting  in  a  disposition  to 
concur  in  all  measures  of  government  and  discipline 
which  he  deemed  proper.  The  department  of  instruc- 
tion, which  he  conducted  as  tutor,  was  that  of  the  mathe- 
matics and  natural  philosophy ;  for  his  attainments  in 
which,  he  was  then  distinguished.  Being  familiar  with 
the  branches  of  science,  which  he  was  required  to  teach, 
and  feeling  a  deep  interest  in  the  improvement  of  his  pu- 
pils, he  made  himself  at  all  times  accessible  to  them,  and 
took  manifest  pleasure  in  freely  and  fully  imparting  infor- 
mation in  answer  to  their  inquiries.  At  the  recitations 
and  exercises  of  the  several  classes,  the  same  qualities 
were  conspicuous,  and  gave  him  great  advantage  as  a 
teacher.  His  affability,  frankness,  and  unaffected  sym- 
pathy with  all  studious  inquirers,  inspired  affectionate 
confidence  and  secured  the  most  respectful  attention  to 
his  instructions.  Having  also  a  happy  fluency  and  an 
animated  manner  in  communicating  his  thoughts,  and 
being  remarkably  clear  and  satisfactory  in  his  views  and 
illustrations,  I  need  not  add  that  he  was  a  very  popular 
as  well  as  useful  instructor. 


JUDGE    WHITE.  119 

Such  are  my  impressions  of  his  reputation  as  a  teacher 
at  that  time.  Some  of  those  who  were  his  pupils  might 
doubtless  give  you  more  distinct  information  on  the  sub- 
ject. 1  had  no  means  of  personal  observation,  except 
from  his  manner  at  the  public  examinations  of  the  stu- 
dents ;  which  fully  accorded  with  what  I  learned  through 
others.  His  ardent  zeal  in  the  cause  of  education  and 
human  improvement,  seems  to  have  distinguished  him 
through  life.  I  had,  however,  but  very  rarely  an  oppor- 
tunity of  witnessing  it  after  he  removed  from  Cambridge. 
I  attended  his  ordination  at  Beverly,  and  occasionally 
visited  him  afterwards.  Of  one  visit  which  I  made  him 
soon  after  his  first  marriage,  I  have  a  distinct  recollec- 
tion, as  it  left  an  impression  on  my  mind  of  his  peculiar 
views  respecting  female  education,  probably  from  his 
conversation  at  the  time,  as  well  as  from  finding  Mrs. 
Emerson  engaged  with  him  in  some  of  the  higher  intel- 
lectual studies,  apparently  as  a  pupil.  His  room  had  all 
the  appearance  of  a  college  study,  with  the  Encyclopedia 
and  other  ponderous  volumes  arranged  on  the  floor  around 
him.  At  that  time,  he  seemed  to  think  that  the  profound- 
est  branches  of  science  and  philosophy  were  adapted  to 
exercise  and  discipline  the  female  mind,  and  might  be 
comprised  with  advantage  in  a  course  of  female  studies.  I 
am  inclined  to  believe  that  his  views  underwent  some 
change,  from  his  subsequent  experience  and  observa- 
tion. At  a  later  period,  I  was  much  gratified  to  hear  re- 
marks from  him  on  this  subject,  which  appeared  to  me 
to  indicate  the  most  enlarged  and  just  views  of  the  char- 
acter and  duties  of  the  female  sex,  and  of  the  education 
and  studies  appropriate  to  them.  I  hope  you  will  be  able, 
from  his  correspondence  and  other  sources,  to  collect  and 
preserve  the  valuable  results  of  his  observation  and  re- 
flection on  the  subject  of  education,  and  especially  the 
education  of  females,  upon  which  he  bestowed  so  much 
thought  and  labor,  and  from  his  long  experience  as  an 
instructor,  was  so  competent  a  judge. 

With  the  sincerest  wishes  for  the  success  of  your  pre- 
sent undertaking  and  all  your  useful  labors,  I  remain 

Yours,  respectfully, 

D.  A.  White. 


120  LETTER   FROM 

The  remaining  communication  is  a  letter  from  his 
highly  respected  teacher  in  divinity,  Rev.  Dr.  Emmons, 
who  still  survives  in  great  vigor  and  activity,  though  at 
the  advanced  age  of  about  four  score  and  ten  years.  He 
was  present  at  the  ordination  of  my  brother  in  Beverly, 
and  preached  the  sermon  on  that  occasion. 

Franklin,  October  14,  1833. 

Rev.  and  Dear  Sir, — I  thank  you  for  your  very  kind 
and  affectionate  letter,  and  I  should  be  pleased  if  I 
could  give  you  any  information  or  assistance  in  preparing 
for  publication  a  Memoir  of  your  dear  deceased  brother  , 
who,  since  my  first  and  intimate  acquaintance  with  him, 
has  ever  stood  high  in  my  affection  and  esteem.  He 
came  to  Franklin  in  the  year  1799,  and  resided  with  me, 
at  different  periods,  for  about  two  years,  until  he  was 
licensed  to  preach  the  gospel.  I  highly  esteemed  him 
for  his  amiable  qualities  and  genuine  piety.  I  attended 
his  ordination  at  Beverly,  and  at  the  request  of  the 
Moderator,  while  under  examination,  I  freely  and  frankly 
gave  my  testimony  in  favor  of  his  moral  and  religious 
character.  Though  he  often  wrote  to  me  after  his  settle- 
ment in  the  ministry,  yet  I  find  no  letter  of  his  in  my 
hands,  except  one,  which  I  herewith  send  you.  1  feel 
it  to  be  an  agreeable  and  melancholy  duty  which  I  owe 
to  God  and  to  the  friends  of  God,  as  well  as  to  you  and 
to  your  dear  departed  brother,  to  state  what  I  know  and 
what  it  is  proper  for  me  to  relate,  respecting  that  worthy 
and  faithful  minister  of  Christ. 

Mr.  Emerson,  like  other  young  gentlemen  with  whom  T 
have  been  acquainted  while  preparing  for  the  ministry,  not 
only  conducted  with  propriety  and  agreeably  to  his  chris- 
tian profession,  but  exhibited  some  peculiar  traits  of  char- 
acter, which  qualified  him  for  great  and  extensive  useful- 
ness, through  the  whole  course  of  his  life.  He  possessed  a 
strong,  clear,  retentive,  discriminating  mind.  He  was 
capable  of  rising  to  eminence  in  any  branch  of  learning 
to  which  he  turned  his  particular  attention.  He  had  a 
taste  for  reading,  and  especially  for  reading  the  scrip- 
tures. He  was  as  good  a  biblical  as  classical  scholar.  He 
studied  the  deep  things  of  God,  and  acquired  very  clear 
and    consistent  views  of  the  peculiar,  and  fundamental 


DR.     EMMONS. 


121 


doctrines  and  duties  of  Christianity.  He  chose  the  work 
of  the  ministry,  not  for  the  sake  of  ease,  or  popularity, 
or  filthy  lucre ;  but  for  the  sake  of  employing  all  his  time 
and  talents  to  the  best  advantage,  in  promoting  the  spir- 
itual and  eternal  interests  of  mankind.  So  long  as  his 
health  allowed  him  to  pursue  his  chosen  work,  he  uni- 
formly sustained  the  character  of  an  able  and  faithful 
minister  of  the  gospel.  And  after  his  feeble  health  con- 
strained him  a  second  time  to  relinquish  his  pastoral  re- 
lation to  a  particular  church,  he  turned  his  whole  atten- 
tion to  a  business  for  which  he  was  eminently  qualified, 
and  in  which  he  was  extensively  useful.  In  a  word,  I 
verily  believe,  that  a  just  and  fair  delineation  of  the  tal- 
ents, usefulness,  and  exemplary  piety  of  Mr.  Emerson, 
may  have  a  happy  tendency  to  promote  the  cause  of  truth 
and  the  millennian  prosperity  of  Zion. 

With  my  best  wishes  for  your  personal  and  public  use- 
fulness, I  am,  Dear  Sir,  most  affectionately  yours, 

Nathaniel  Emmons. 

It  would  be  superfluous  for  me  to  comment  on  the  facts 
and  traits  of  character  above  given  with  so  much  kind- 
ness, candor,  and  discrimination,  and  by  authorities  so 
distinguished.  Had  these  communications  been  an  echo 
to  each  other  of  the  same  facts  and  sentiments,  it  would 
have  been  an  act  of  ostentation  to  present  them  all  ;  but 
distinctive  and  peculiar  as  the  reader  perceives  each  one 
of  them  to  be,  I  could  not  feel  myself  justified  in  with- 
holding what  I  have  inserted. 


11 


CHAPTER    V. 


FROM     HIS     SETTLEMENT     TO     THE    DEATH    OF     HIS     FIRST 
WIFE. 

Ordination — Marriage — Death  of  his  wife — His  feel- 
ings on  that  occasion. 

It  has  already  been  stated,  that  my  brother  received  the 
ministerial  charge  of  the  third  congregational  church  and 
society  in  Beverly,  Sept.  21,  1803.  As  the  occasion  was 
new  in  our  annals,  the  ordaining  council  was  large  and 
uncommonly  respectable.  The  sermon,  preached  by  Dr. 
Emmons,  was  published. 

That  day,  to  my  brother,  was  solemn  beyond  descrip- 
tion ;  and  probably  but  few,  even  of  those  who  have  re- 
ceived the  like  charge,  are  able  fully  to  enter  into  the 
depths  of  his  emotions.  As  illustrative  of  this  point,  I  will 
here  mention  the  fact,  that  he  spent  the  day  in  fasting  in- 
stead of  feasting.  For  this  he  had  indeed  very  peculiar 
reasons,  in  addition  to  primitive  example.  It  may  not  be 
improper  to  dwell,  for  a  moment,  on  these  reasons,  though 
we  cannot  go  into  them  minutely. 

The  church  and  society  were  just  formed,  and  were 
now,  under  his  guidance,  about  to  encounter  the  peculiar 
trials  incident  to  their  infant  state, — trials  both  within  and 
without.  Their  circumstances  were  also,  at  that  time, 
peculiar,  though  such  circumstances  are  now  common,  as 
so  many  churches  have  since  come  out  from  the  midst  of 
others  with  which  they  could  no  longer  be  satisfied  to 
continue.  The  responsibility  was  as  great  as  the  course 
to  be  pursued  was  novel. 

But  this  was  not  all  which  conspired  to  fill  his  mind 
with  peculiar  solemnity,  and  perhaps  with  apprehension. 
I  find,  from  his  letters  of  prior  date,  that  not  a  little  un- 


TRAITS    OF    CHARACTER.  123 

easiness  had  been  manifested  to  him,  from  an  influential 
source,  respecting  some  arrangements,  which  it  is  needless 
here  to  mention.  The  case  was  such  as  to  require  him  to 
act  with  promptness  and  decision,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
under  a  deep  responsibility  in  regard  to  the  character  of 
the  ministry,  and  the  prospects  of  that  church  and  people. 
Probably  few  were  acquainted  with  this  occasion  which 
he  then  had  for  fasting  and  prayer.  His  conduct,  in 
connection  with  all  the  complicated  and  trying  cir- 
cumstances, was  a  striking  illustration  of  the  mingled 
firmness  and  meekness  of  his  character.  His  gentleness 
was  such  as  to  lead  some  men  perhaps  to  presume  that  he 
might  be  swayed  to  their  purposes  :  but  he  was,  in  fact,  one 
of  the  very  last  men  to  be  drawn  or  driven  from  the  posi- 
tion of  conscious  propriety  and  duty.  Such,  I  doubt  not, 
he  was  found  by  any  and  all  who  may  ever  have  made  the 
trial.  Like  the  patriarch  whose  name  he  bore,  he  acted 
from  principle,  not  from  passion,  nor  from  selfishness.  In 
vain  do  you  address  the  passions  of  such  men,  and  espe- 
cially their  supposed  timidity,  until  you  first  gain  their 
moral  judgment. 

In  what  I  have  said  above,  partly  for  the  purpose  of 
guarding  against  the  imputation  of  eccentricity,  for  not 
indulging  in  the  customary  festivities  on  such  an  occa- 
sion, I  do  not  intend  to  exculpate  him  on  all  occasions. 
Where  is  the  man,  of  any  originality,  whose  conduct  does 
not  sometimes  wear  such  an  aspect?  He  was  himself 
well  aware  of  this  infirmity,  and  requested  his  friends  to 
assist  him  in  guarding  against  it.  But  while  I  admit  the 
trait,  as  far  as  truth  will  warrant,  I  am  anxious  that  his 
character  should  not  suffer,  as  is  so  often  the  fact  in  such 
cases,  beyond  the  boundaries  of  truth.  Few  men  can 
give  more  or  better  reasons  for  their  daily  conduct,  than 
he  could  give  for  a  large  share  of  those  actions  which 
seemed  rather  strange  in  their  first  aspect ;  and  he  rarely 
failed  to  convince  his  intimate  friends  of  the  perfect  pro- 
priety and  wisdom  of  his  conduct.  And  yet  there  were 
cases  in  which  he  failed  decidedly,  even  in  his  own  judg- 
ment, when  reviewing  the  transactions  after  the  lapse  of 
months  or  years.  There  are,  indeed,  some  vain  spirits, 
who  seek  to  be  singular.  It  is  the  cheapest,  if  not  the 
only  way,  for  them  to  attract  attention.  Not  so  with  mod- 
est men  of  independent  thought.     The   amount  of  the 


124  MARRIAGE,    ETC. 

matter  in  question,  as  it  respects  such  men,  seems  to  be, 
that  they  do  not  desire  but  dread  the  appearance  of  singu- 
larity ;  still,  as  they  look  with  an  eye  of  originality  on 
courses  of  conduct,  as  well  as  on  other  things,  they  see 
variations  from  the  beaten  track,  which  other  men  would 
never  see.  And  while  some  of  these  courses  are  wise, 
and  may  prove  of  much  use  to  the  community  as  well  as 
to  themselves,  others  are  not  improvements,  and  are 
therefore  branded  as  eccentricities.  Some,  too,  which 
are  real  and  great  improvements,  are  at  first  regarded  as 
impracticable  follies,  because  but  imperfectly  compre- 
hended in  their  reasons  or  their  mode  of  execution.  Such, 
for  a  long  time,  has  been  the  fact  with  other  improve- 
ments besides  that  master  movement  and  glory  of  our  age, 
the  temperance  reformation.  If  then  a  man  will  give  the 
world  one  real  improvement  out  of  a  score  of  harmless 
eccentricities,  let  us  accept  it  gratefully,  just  as  we  do  one 
good  poem  out  of  a  much  larger  percentage  of  failures. 

Shortly  after  his  settlement,  he  was  married  to  Miss 
Nancy  Eaton,  of  Framingham,  whose  name  has  before 
been  mentioned,  and  to  whom,  as  a  former  pupil  and  a 
friend,  were  addressed  many  of  the  letters  from  which  the 
previous  extracts  have  been  taken.  His  earthly  bliss 
seemed  now  complete.  No  man  was  better  fitted  than 
himself,  to  enjoy  the  endearments  of  a  people  whom  he 
chose,  and  a  wife  whom  he  so  tenderly  loved.  Now,  there 
opened  before  him  an  ample  avenue  to  effort  and  to  use- 
fulness. Now,  there  were  around  him  those  whom  he 
loved  and  respected,  in  the  ministry,  in  the  church,  in  the 
social  circle.  He  had  books  in  plenty  at  his  command. 
He  was  as  highly  respected  as  he  could  imagine  his  mer- 
its to  warrant.  And  he  soon  found  himself  preaching  to 
good  purpose,  the  gospel  of  that  Savior  whom  he  loved 
more  than  all.  He  was  also  free  from  the  cares  of  a  fam- 
ily, while  blessed  with  the  presence  of  his  wife  as  a  fellow 
boarder,  a  pupil,  and  a  help-meet  to  his  studies  and  the 
discharge  of  the  high  duties  he  had  so  lately  assumed. 
It  was  too  good  for  mortals  long  to  enjoy.  So  thought  he 
repeatedly  before,  in  prospect  of  the  blessing,  and  doubt- 
less now  amid  the  fruition.  And  so  it  proved,  as  we  shall 
but  too  soon  see.     In  the  mean  time,  let  us  listen  to  a  let- 


TO    MISS    B.    EATON.  125 

ter  of  his  to  his  new  sister,  but  old  friend  and  pupil,  Miss 
Betsey  Eaton. 

Beverly,  March  23,  1804. 

Early  this  morning,  we  determined  to  devote  some  part 
of  the  day  to  the  animating  employment  of  writing  to  our 
dear  kindred  at  Framingham.  They  are  the  subject  of 
some  of  our  most  endearing  meditations  and  devoutest  wish- 
es, when  we  converse,  when  we  read,  and  when  we  pray. 
When  for  a  while  we  had  been  thinking  and  talking  of  these 
things,  how  very  agreeably  surprising  did  we  find  it,  to 
open  and  read  a  letter  from  our  much  loved  sister.  The 
serious  strain,  that  runs  through  the  whole  letter,  and  the 
account  which  our  sister  has  given  of  her  reading,  etc., 
are  peculiarly  pleasing.  Dear  sister,  go  on  and  prosper. 
Seek  the  Lord  while  he  may  be  found :  call  upon  him 
while  he  is  near.  Knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened.  Search 
the  scriptures  daily  ;  and  let  nothing  prevent  the  incense 
of  your  morning  and  evening  devotions,  from  ascending  up 
before  the  throne  of  your  heavenly  Father,  through  a  glo- 
rious and  merciful  Mediator.  Are  you  a  real  christian  1 
Start  not  at  the  solemn  question  ; — so  solemn,  so  impor- 
tant, that  I  must  repeat  it — Are  you  a  real  christian  ? 
Perhaps  you  reply,  "  I  know  not ;  I  would  give  the  world 
to  know."  Would  you  know  ?  Search  your  own  heart, 
search  deeply  and  prayerfully  ;  and  diligently  compare 
yourself  with  that  holy  book  which  shall  be  opened  at  the 
great  day.  Edwards  on  Affections  may  assist  you  in  the 
solemn  examination.  But  remember  to  bring  this  and 
every  other  merely  human  composition  to  the  "  law  and  to 
the  testimony  "  which  God  has  given.  At  best,  it  can  be 
but  chafT,  unless  it  agree  with  the  oracles  of  truth.  And 
here  I  must  affectionately  warn  you  to  take  heed  that  you 
build  not  upon  the  sand  of  your  own  works,  or  vain  imag- 
inations, instead  of  building  upon  the  sure,  immoveable 
foundation,  the  eternal  Rock  of  ages. 

We  have  a  great  desire  to  see  you,  as  well  as  all  our 
kindred  at  Framingham.  In  about  two  months,  we  ex- 
pect to  remove  from  Mr.  Dike's  to  keep  house  by  our5- 
selves.  Then,  and  even  before  then,  we  should  be  ex- 
ceedingly glad  of  your  company.  With  regard  to  a  school 
in  this  place,  we  have  not  made  much  inquiry,  and  we 
kave  scarcely  given  so  much  as  a  hint  to  any  person,  that 
11* 


1*26  DEATH    OF    HIS    WIFE. 

we  have  any  expectation  of  your  keeping.  We  think  it 
adviseable,  that  you  should  first  spend  a  few  weeks  in  the 
place,  and  form  some  acquaintance  with  the  people  and 
situation  of  the  place.  But  whether  you  ever  take  a 
school  in  this  place  or  not,  we  wish  very  much  to  see  you 
here,  as  soon  as  possible.  We  wish,  by  all  means,  that 
you  may  be  here  when  we  move  into  our  men  hired  house, 
as  we  shall  then  peculiarly  need   your  friendly  assistance. 

With  the  following  letter  before  me,  addressed  to  Mr. 
Eaton  and  his  family,  I  have  no  heart  to  fill  up  the  inter- 
val between  the  dates  with  any  statements  of  my  own. 

Beverly,  June  lb,  1804. 

My  dear  Friends, — Mrs.  Emerson  is  yet  living.  How 
much  longer  she  has  to  stay,  is  not  for  us  to  determine. 
Perhaps  a  few  more  hours  may  carry  her  to  the  arms  of 
her  Redeemer  in  glory.  The  Lord  reigneth,  let  the  earth 
rejoice.  Shall  we,  can  we  feel,  the  least  unwillingness  that 
the  dear  object  of  our  tender  affection  should  be  delivered 
from  this  body  of  death,  and  wafted  to  the  abodes  of  un- 
changing joy  ?  I  desire  to  bless  God  for  the  wonderful 
support  which  1  trust  Betsey  and  I  have  hitherto  enjoyed. 
May  you  be  favored  with  the  same,  and  much  more  abun- 
dantly. Nancy  appears  considerably  rational,  entirely 
resigned,  desiring  to  depart.  O,  I  beseech  you,  my  dear 
friends,  that  you  let  not  sorrow  overwhelm  your  hearts. 
May  we  all  say  from  the  heart,  It  is  the  Lord,  let  him  do 
what  seemeth  him  good.  May  this  affliction  work  for  us 
an  exceeding  weight  of  glory.  Let  us  weep  and  mourn 
for  ourselves,  for  our  own  sins,  and  prepare  to  follow  our 
departing  child — sister — wife,  where  we  trust  she  is  going, 
to  the  world  of  glorified  spirits. 

If  any  of  you  should  come  with  an  expectation  of  at- 
tending   you  need  not  make  the  least  prepara- 
tion for  garments  of  mourning. 

Your  happy — yes,  my  friends — your  happy  son,  brother, 
friend,  J.  Emerson. 

The  changing  in  the  solemn  scene,  will  be  sufficiently 
indicated  by  the  following  letter  to  Miss  IT.  Adams,  the 
intimate  friend  and  correspondent  of  himself  and  his  de- 
parting wife. 


LETTER   TO    MISS    H.    ADAMS.  127 

Beverly,  June  1G,  1804. 

Sublime  in  death  the  lovely  ruin  lies.  The  mortal  part 
of  my  Nancy  is  in  the  chamber  above  my  head.  Earth 
and  her  too  happy  husband  were  unworthy  to  retain  her 
longer.  That  she  has  finished  her  course  with  joy,  we 
have  the  most  pleasing  evidence.  Since  my  endearing 
connection  with  her,  I  have,  with  joy  unspeakable,  wit- 
nessed a  clear  and  uniform  attachment  to  the  cause  of 
God,  and  entire  resignation  to  his  will,  under  every  trying 
circumstance.  To  as  high  a  degree  as  one  creature  can 
be  another's,  I  feel,  and  I  have  uniformly  felt,  that  she  was 
completely  mine,  and  I  was  most  blest.  Gay  title  to  the 
kancst  misery,  shall  I  call  it  ?  Perhaps  so  it  may  prove. 
I  have  not  thus  found  it.  God  only  can  tell  what  is  to  be 
the  issue.  I  desire  to  be  thankful  for  the  wonderful  sup- 
port I  have  experienced.  To-day  every  thing  appears  un- 
commonly pleasant  and  delightful.  The  sun  never  shone 
so  bright,  and  nature  never  appeared  so  beautiful.  To- 
day I  think  my  happiness  has  exceeded  every  thing  that  I 
have  ever  before  experienced. — The  bell  is  now  tolling  for 
the  funeral  of  my  departed  Nancy. — Never  before  was  a 
knell  so  pleasing.*  Perhaps  she  whom  I  so  much  delight- 
ed to  think  and  call  my  Nancy,  can  hear  the  sound  so 
animating  to  her  bereaved  husband.  Must  it  not  be 
inexpressibly  delightful !  Perhaps,  even  now,  her  heav- 
enly Father  is  granting  her  the  satisfaction  to  rejoice  with 
her  dearest  earthly  friend.  She  has  made  the  employ- 
ment habitual. 

You  have  known  more  about  our  connection,  perhaps, 
than  any  other  mortal.  Can  it  be,  that  such  a  friendship, 
such  a  love,  should  prove  eternal  ?  What  think  you?  Can 
she  now  look  with  satisfaction  on  a  connection  so  intimate, 
so  mutually  endearing?  Can  she  now  look  with  satisfac- 
tion on  him  whom  she  once  delighted  to  call  her  husband? 

That  we  should  be  married  before  we  had  accommo- 
dations for  jiving  in  a  family  state,  the  world  in  general 
might  condemn.  But  I  need  not  tell  you,  my  sister,  that 
for  some  years  past,  I  have  been  striving  to  rise  above  the 
world  ;  and  though  some  of  my  conduct  may  have  ren- 
dered me  ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of  some,  and  a  fool  in  the 

*  Sec  an  honorable  reference  to  these  facts,  in  the  Memoir  of  Dr.  Payson, 
p.  19,  where  he  speaks  of  my  brother,  though  not  byname,  as  "  an  old  tutor 
of  his,  and  a  very  pious  man,  who  had  lately  lost  a  much  lo\ed  wife." 


128  LETTER   TO    MISS   H.    ADAMS. 

eyes  of  others,  yet  herein  do  I  rejoice,  yea  and  I  will 
rejoice,  and  only  lament  that  I  have  not  felt,  and  acted, 
and  risen,  still  more  above  the  world.  I  wished  to  have 
her  here  in  a  situation  of  leisure,  that  I  might  have  oppor- 
tunity to  assist  in  cultivating  and  expanding  that  angelic 
mind.  This  is  a  reason  which  people  in  general  can  by 
no  means  comprehend  or  conceive.  What  greatness  of 
mind  did  she  not  manifest  in  consenting  to  this,  to  come 
and  dwell  among  strangers.  She  has  taught  me,  (dear 
instructress!)  or  rather  she  has  rivetted  my  former  opin- 
ion, that  personal  beauty  and  amiable  weakness  are  not 
the  only  objects  of  love  ;  that  there  may  be  such  a  thing 
as  rational  love  for  a  female;  that  such  a  love  is  not  blind  ; 
that  familiarity  does  not  necessarily  produce  contempt. 
With  a  soul  like  hers,  it  creates  admiration.  Familiarity 
with  a  contemptible  object,  may  indeed  produce  contempt. 

June  21. — Though  it  is  a  circumstance  unspeakably 
consoling  and  animating,  for  which  I  feel  bound  to  give 
thanks  as  long  as  I  have  my  being,  that  there  is  hope  in 
the  death  of  my  departed  Nancy,  yet  I  trust  my  resigna- 
tion and  consolation  have  a  firmer  foundation  than  the 
thought  that  she  is  happy.  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord 
hath  taken  away,  and  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord.  I 
feel  as  though  I  had  lost  nothing,  and  had  nothing  to  lose. 
Although  the  fig  tree  shall  not  blossom,  neither  shall  fruit 
be  found  on  the  vine ;  the  labor  of  the  olive  shall  fail,  and 
the  field  shall  yield  no  meat ;  yet  will  I  rejoice  in  the 
Lord,  I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  salvation. 

I  hope  your  contemplated  visit  will  not  be  postponed, 
though  you  cannot  see  the  face  of  my  dear  Nancy  any 
more  on  earth.  I  am  situated  in  a  very  amiable  family, 
whose  kindness  to  me  no  language  can  express.  They 
appear  very  desirous  of  an  acquaintance  with  you. 

I  expect  shortly  to  take  a  long  journey  for  my  health. 
After  my  return,  I  hope  you  will  soon  have  opportunity  to 
sympathize  (I  do  not  say  condole)  with  your  brother, 

Joseph    Emerson. 

Copies  of  this  letter  were  soon  taken,  and  read  with 
avidity  by  different  classes  of  persons.  Many  were  eleva- 
ted in  pious  views  and  feelings,  while  to  some  it  was  a 
*  pearl "  which  they  could  not  appreciate.  But  w  hat  must 
have  been  the  moral  sensibilities  of  that  heart,  which 


SUPPORT    IN    BEREAVEMENT.  129 

could  coldly  or  unkindly  criticise  an  effusion  like  this,  and 
poured  forth  under  circumstances  so  overwhelming  and 
transporting  !  It  was  not  thus,  that  the  seraphic,  heaven- 
taught  spirit  of  Payson  regarded  the  unearthly  consola- 
tions of  his  "old  tutor."  A  single  hint,  however,  in  the 
passage  of  his  Memoir  just  referred  to,  will  show  us  how 
he  regarded  the  men  who  could  severely  criticise  the 
above  letter. 

But  to  return  to  my  brother.  We  may  properly  and  per- 
haps profitably  inquire — How  could  a  heart  so  feeling,  so 
devoted  to  its  tenderest  earthly  object,  thus  endure  such  a 
loss,  and  even  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of 
glory  1  It  was  God  that  sustained  him.  It  was  that  "  faith 
which  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for  and  the  evi- 
dence of  things  not  seen,"  that  enabled  him  to  endure  as 
seeing  him  who  is  invisible — and  her, too,  who  had  become 
invisible,  and  was  entering  into  glory.  The  Divine  Com- 
forter was  with  him  in  the  plenitude  of  covenant  grace. 

That  he  thus  regarded  the  supporting  hand  of  God,  is 
evinced  by  the  following  extract  of  a  letter,  of  Sept.  5,  to 
myself  and  younger  brother. 

I  have  lately  been  called  to  pass  through  scenes  pecu- 
liarly trying,  of  which  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  form  any 
adequate  idea.  In  these  scenes,  I  have  experienced  the 
mercy,  the  faithfulness,  and  tho  consolations  of  God,  in  a 
wonderful  manner.  Alas!  my  dear  brothers,  how  misera- 
ble must  I  have  been,  if  I  had  not  had  an  almighty  friend 
in  heaven — a  friend  upon  whom  I  could  freely  cast  the 
burden  of  my  soul — a  burden  too  heavy  for  a  created  arm 
to  sustain.  And  now,  my  brothers,  cannot  you  praise  the 
Lord  for  his  wonderful  works,  and  for  his  goodness  to  the 
children  of  men  ?  How  many  thousands  have  found  him 
a  very  present  help  in  times  of  trouble  1  What  is  every 
thing  the  world  can  afford,  without  an  interest  in  the  favor 
of  God? 

I  intreat  you,  disregard  not  these  things,  but  write  im- 
mediately to  your  affectionate  brother, 

Joseph  Emerson. 

Religion  with  him  had  become  a  habit,  as  well  as  an 
active  principle,  and  was  at  hand  on  all  occasions  to  sus- 
tain and  bless,  as  well  as  to  guide  and  command.  We 
may  say,  too,  that  the  true  children  of  God  are  more  sure 


130  SUPPORT    IN    BEREAVEMENT. 

to  summon  religion  to  their  aid  on  great  than  on  small  oc- 
casions, and  that  it  is  adequate  to  the  severest  trials.  And 
still  further,  I  may  remark,  in  explanation  of  his  remark- 
able support,  that  he  appears  to  me,  from  even  an  early 
stage  of  their  special  intimacy,  to  have  had  a  sort  of  pre- 
sentiment, (I  believe  not  a  superstitious  one,)  that  the 
blessing  of  her  society  was  too  great  to  be  long  enjoyed  by 
him  on  earth.  Shall  I  be  blamed  for  exhibiting  some  ev- 
idence for  my  opinion  ?  It  will  at  least  be  an  item  in  his 
faithful  history.  Under  date  of  May  25,  1803,  he  says  : 
"  Last  night  I  had  the  satisfaction  to  dream  of  sitting, 
of  walking,  of  conversing,  with  one  upon  whom  my  soul  de- 
lighteth  to  meditate — not  one  to  whom  my  "  imagination 
cannot  add  a  charm,"  but  whom  I  must  delight  to  contem- 
plate as  the  brightest  intelligence,  as  the  most  modest  and 
ingenuous,  as  the  most  tender  and  affectionate,  as  the 
most  sincere  and  constant  of  all  my  female  acquaintances, 
— as  more  my  own  congenial,  as  more  a  "  sister  spirit," 
than  any  other  being  in  the  universe.  Yet  it  was  attend- 
ed by  a  kind  of  anxiety,  and  an  indescribable  gloom,  that 
in  some  degree  marred  my  happiness."  He  once  told  me, 
that  though  he  did  not  regard  his  dreams  as  prophetic,  yet 
they  often  excited  trains  of  thought,  which  he  felt  it  as 
much  his  duty  to  improve,  as  those  of  his  waking  hours. 
Doubtless  he  so  improved  this,  and  recorded  it  simply  for 
that  purpose.  Had  he  not  been  the  very  opposite  of  a  vis- 
ionary, I  might  not  have  decided  to  preserve  such  a  notice. 
— Again,  August  20,  1803 — "  And  is  her  health  even 
better  than  before  ?  And  have  I  lived  to  enjoy  a  moment 
like  this  !  Abba,  Father — who,  and  what  am  I,  that  I 
should  enjoy  such  favors  !  O,  preserve,  preserve,  preserve 
my  treasure.  Yet  not  my  will,  if  contrary  to  thine.  If  it 
should  please  thee  to  try  me,  and,  as  it  were,  to  rend  me 
from  myself,  may  I  say,  Amen,  and  kiss  the  rod." — Once 
more:  "  Sept.  9, 1803 — How  soon,  how  suddenly,  may  we 
be  separated  !  O,  let  us  constantly  exercise  ourselves  to  be 
prepared  either  to  die,  or  to  survive." — And  thus,  happy 
spirit,  was  she  prepared  so  "  suddenly"  to  die,  and  he 
"  to  survive."  and  both  of  them  in  the  possession  of  that 
"peace  which  passeth  all  understanding." — Thrice  bless- 
ed for  him  that  writes,  and  they  that  read,  if  we,  in  the 
approaching  hour  of  "  dread  extremity,"  shall  have  at- 
tained to  some  "  understanding  of  this  peace." 


CHAPTER   VL 


FROM    THE    DEATH    OF    HIS    FIRST    WIFE    TO    THE    TIME    OF 
HIS    SECOND    MARRIAGE. 

Letters  to  relatives — Historical  notices  of  his  wife — His 
tender  remembrance  of  her — His  morning  school — Other 
plans  of  usefulness. 

I  know  not  whether  this  should  be  denominated  a 
chapter  of  joys,  or  of  sorrows.  It  is,  in  truth,  a  chapter 
of  both;  and  those  in  no  ordinary  degree.  But  they  are 
of  such  a  nature,  and  so  commingled,  as  strikingly  to 
exhibit  the  mourning  Christian,  in  distinction  from  those 
who  mourn  as  having  no  hope. 

I  proceed  with  extracts  from  letters  to  the  bereaved 
relatives.  The  first  was  probably  written  on  the  day 
after  the  burial,  to  the  younger  brother  and  sister  of 
Mrs.  E. 

Beverly,  June  17,  1804. 

My  dear  Brother  and  Sister, — Your  sister,  your 
friend,  your  instructress,  has  left  this  world  of  trouble  and 
entered  her  everlasting  habitation.  You,  perhaps,  are  now 
exceedingly  sorrowful ;  and  it  may  be  that  you  are  sor- 
rowing most  of  all  because  you  will  see  her  face  on  earth 
no  more.  But  you  must  not  sorrow  most  for  this.  Why 
can  you  wish  to  call  her  down  from  the  mansions  of  un- 
utterable joy?  why  can  you  wish  that  soul  which  was  all 
tenderness,  all  sympathy,  all  activity,  all  resignation,  all 
love,  to  be  longer  imprisoned  in  a  house  of  clay  ?  We 
trust  she  has  made  a  most  happy  exchange.  A  fit  com- 
panion for  angels  and  glorified  saints,  she  no  longer  con- 
tinues to  bless  the  world  with  her  smiles,  her  actions,  her 
conversation.  But  though  dead,  she  yet  speaketh  to  you, 
to  me,  to  all  her  surviving  friends.    O  do  not  refuse  to  hear 


132  LETTERS    TO    HIS 

the  voice  of  your  dear,  dear  departed  sister,  whose  soul 
has  wept  in  secret  for  you.  Can  you  not  seem  to  hear 
her  from  her  grave  speaking  unto  you;  "Be  ye  also 
ready?  I  have  led  the  way.  Prepare,  O  prepare  to 
follow.  Weep  not  for  me,  but  for  yourselves.  Do  not 
sorrow  that  you  shall  see  my  face  no  more  on  earth,  but 
rather  weep  and  mourn  for  your  sins,  lest  you  should  not 
see  my  face  in  heaven.  Remember  now  your  Creator  in 
the  days  of  your  youth. 

Your  affectionate  brother, 

Joseph  Emerson. 

More  than  two  months  later,  he  thus  writes  to  the  pa- 
rents of  his  deceased  wife. 

Beverly,  Aug.  29,  1804. 

My  dear  Parents, — The  departure  of  my  Nancy  has 
greatly  endeared  to  me  all  her  friends  and  connexions. 
Indeed  she  does  not  seem  to  be  wholly  gone,  while  those 
remain  who  were  so  dear  to  her,  and  to  whom  she  was  so 
dear.  I  trust  Cod  has  not  afflicted  me  in  vain.  I  think 
I  can  say,  the  greater  part  of  the  time,  It  is  good  for 
me  that  I  have  been  afflicted.  I  seem  to  experience  the 
benefit  of  it,  almost  every  day.  It  is  in  my  heart  to 
make  you  a  visit.  But  I  am  about  a  great  and  delightful 
work.  I  must  work  the  works  of  him  that  sent  me  while 
it  is  day.  I  trust  the  Sun  of  righteousness  is  shining 
upon  my  beloved  flock  and  people.  I  should  greatly  re- 
joice if  it  could  be  consistent  for  you  and  your  whole 
family  to  witness  and  participate  our  joys.  My  health 
seems  to  be  perfectly  restored,  and  I  am  enabled  to  la- 
bor with  increasing  satisfaction. 

A  letter  from  any  of  the  family  will  add  great  satis- 
faction to  the  sincere  friend  of  their  souls. 

Joseph   Emerson. 

The  folio  win  or  is  to  his  brother  in  law,  now  Rev.  Wil- 
liam  Eaton, 

Beverly,  Sept.  12,  1804. 

My  dear  Brother, — God  has  called  us  to  put  on  the 
garments  of  mourning.  Our  friend  sleepeth.  From  you 
he  has  taken  a  tender,  a  dearly  beloved  sister.  From 
me  he  has  taken  a  congenial  sister  ;  yea,  more  than  a 
sister,  more  than  a  parent,  more  than  a  child,  more  than 


FELLOW    MOURNERS.  133 

all  surviving  earthly  friends,  more  dear  to  my  soul  than  the 
breath  of  life.  Our  loss,  how  unspeakable.  You  know 
something  of  her  excellences — enough  to  admire — enough 
to  love.  But  you  saw  them  at  a  distance  ;  you  saw  them, 
or  rather  some  of  them,  with  but  a  brother's  eye.  Alas! 
my  brother,  who  but  her  husband  could  have  any  ade- 
quate conception  of  the  treasures  of  intelligence  that  dig- 
nified her  soul  ;  of  the  glowing  constellation  of  virtues 
that  shone  with  increasing  lustre  in  her  heart 

"Snatch'd  e're  thy  prime!  and  In  thy  bridal  year, 
And  when  kind  fortune  vvilli  thy  husband  smiled." 

Alas,  my  brother,  we  shall  never  behold  her  equal  on 
this  side  heaven. — Shall  I,  too,  weep  ?  Where  then  is 
fortitude  1  Jesus  wept.  Greater,  no  doubt,  is  my  cause. 
These  eyes,  dry  for  so  many  years,  have  at  length  become 
familiar  with  tears.  And  there  is  sometimes,  in  weeping, 
a  joy  above  all  earthly  dignities.  Yet  I  must  acknowl- 
edge that  sometimes  I  feel  not  only  solitary,  but  dejected 
and  unhappy.  But  I  desire  to  be  thankful  that  such  sea- 
sons  have  not  been  frequent,  nor  of  long  continuance. 

Dear  Brother,  the  voice  of  God  is  loud  to  us  and  to  all 
our  dear  connexions.  Ours  is  not  a  common  loss.  If  it 
is  so  painful  to  be  separated  from  our  sister  a  few  days, 
how  distressing  the  thought  of  being  separated   for  ever ! 

TO    MISS    H.    ADAMS. 

Beverly.  Nov.  14,  1G04. 

My  dear  and  ever  honored  Sister, — Though  my 
Nancy  is  taken  from  my  arms,  she  is  not  taken  from  my 
heart.  I  still  continue  to  converse  with  her  ;  sometimes 
in  the  most  delightful  manner,  and  sometimes  in  tears 
and  sighs,  that  cannot  be  uttered.  The  generality  of  my 
friends  seem  to  have  forgotten  that  I  ever  had  such  a 
connexion.  When  she  is  mentioned  to  me,  it  is  often 
with  coldness  more  distressing  than  utter  silence  upon  the 
endearing  subject.  ■  But  I  still  have  the  letters  that  passed 
between  us.  What  a  treasure!  what  a  solace!  though 
sometimes,  alas !  but  a  dear  aggravation  of  my  sorrows. 
They  never  speak  coldly. 

"  Heaven  first  taught  letters  for  some  wretches  aid, 
Some  tvidow'd  husband  or  some  captive  maid  ; 
They  live,  they  speak,  they  breathe  what  love  inspires, 
Warm  to  the  soul  and  faithful  to  its  fires." 

12 


134  BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCHES    OF 

I  have  lately  formed  the  design  of  undertaking  the 
melancholy,  animating  task  of  writing  some  account  of 
my  departed  wife,  and  particularly  my  connexion  with 
her,  which  I  consider  as  remarkable  in  its  beginning, 
progress,  and  termination.  This  account  is  designed  to 
contain  most  of  the  writings  that  have  ever  passed  be- 
tween us,  together  with  several  other  letters  relating  to 
the  subject. 

Perhaps  you  may  marvel  that,  in  the  midst,  of  so  many 
solemn  and  pressing  avocations,  I  should  undertake  this 
account,  especially  when  I  assure  you,  that  it  is  designed 
almost  wholly  for  my  own  perusal  and  benefit.  A  few  of 
my  dear  friends  who  are  "  feelingly  alive"  to  every  thing 
relating  to  my  late  most  happy  connexion,  may  have  a  dis- 
position and  opportunity  to  peruse  this  history  of  my  joys 
and  sorrows.  I  have  many  motives  for  this  undertaking. 
I  could  fill  sheets  in  stating  my  reasons  at  large.  But  the 
greatest  reason  of  all,  is  a  hope  that,  by  the  blessing  of 
God,  it  may  have  a  favorable  influence  upon  my  heart — a 
heart  that  has  lately  become  most  abominably  stupid  and 
most  shamefully  hard.  I  am  sometimes  ready  to  sink 
with  grief  for  my  bereavement.  Why  cannot  I  grieve  as 
heartily  for  my  sins?  Be  astonished,  O  ye  heavens,  at 
this  !  Dear  Sister,  pray  without  ceasing  for  your  back- 
sliding brother.  Joseph  Emerson. 

Here,  I  cannot  but  think  that  my  afflicted  brother  in 
some  measure  mistook  the  religious  state  of  his  mind. 
After  such  extreme  and  protracted  excitement,  is  it  not 
more  natural  to  suppose,  that  his  heart  had  lost  the  pow- 
er of  acute  feeling  on  all  subjects,  than  that  it  had  be- 
come thus  "  hard    and  stupid"  ? 

Probably  most  of  the  readers  of  this  memoir,  will  be 
glad  to  see  at  least  a  few  extracts  from  the  above-men- 
tioned account  of  his  wife.  I  shall  feel  myself  the  more 
warranted  in  gratifying  such  a  wish,  as  these  extracts 
will  further  illustrate  both  his  character  and  hers,  and 
will  also  cast  light  on  some  of  his  views  of  education  at 
that  time.  It  will  be  seen,  that  he  commenced  this 
account  some  time  previous  to  the  date  of  his  letter  to 
Miss  A^i  ims. 

"  Skolches  of  the  life  of  Mrs.  Nancy  Emerson,  who 
died  at  loverly,  June  15,  1804,  aged  25  years  and  18 
days." 


HIS    FIRST    WIFE. 


135 


"  I  am  not  ignorant  that  the  excellences  of  departed 
friends,  seen  through  the  mist  of  increasing  affliction, 
may  be  as  much  magnified,  as  their  imperfections  are  ob- 
scured. By  no  means  would  I  claim  exemption  from  the 
deluding  influence  of  a  heart  whose  wounds,  for  almost 
five  weeks,  have  been  growing  deeper  and  fresher  from 
day  to  day.  All  I  can  promise,  is,  to  guard,  as  much  as 
possible,  against  the  force  of  affection,  and  to  confine 
myself  principally  to  stating  facts,  instead  of  uttering  en- 
comiums upon  the  dear  departed  "wife  of  my  youth." 

"  The  first  time  1  recollect  to  have  seen  her,  was  nearly 
six  years  ago,  at  her  father's  house  in  Framingham.  I 
was  not  much  struck  with  her  appearance,  at  that  inter- 
view, one  way  or  the  other.  The  most  that  I  recollect, 
was  a  kind  of  diffident,  downcast  look  which  I  cannot 
describe  to  those  who  were  not  acquainted  with  her,  and 
need  not  to  those  who  were.'1* 

"  A  few  days  after  the  first  short  interview,  she  became 
my  pupil  at  the  academy,  and  a  member  of  the  same 
family  with  myself.  The  first  thing  in  her  which  attracted 
my  more  particular  notice,  not  to  say  admiration,  was  the 
attention  which  she  gave,  whenever  I  addressed  the 
school  in  general,  or  her  class  in  particular;  especially 
when  I  attempted  to  explain  the  rudiments  of  English 
grammar  or  astronomy.  I  soon  formed  the  opinion,  that 
she  was  possessed  of  a  very  superior  understanding,  and 
a  memory  above  the  common  level.  If  any  difficulty 
arose  in  her  mind,  upon  any  subject,  it  was  sufficient  to 
inform  her  once  how  it  might  be  solved.  The  answers 
which  she  gave  to  the  questions  I  proposed  to  her  upon 
the  branches  she  was  pursuing,  often  surprised  and  de- 
lighted me.     In  short,  such  was  the   progress  she  made, 

*  "  My  much  respected  father-in-law,  Mr.  Ebenezer  Eaton,  lives  in  a 
very  retired  situation,  in  the  north  part  of  Framingham,  at  the  end  of  a  small 
road,  about  four  miles  from  the  meeting  house.  On  the  south  of  his  house, 
is  a  wood  at  the  distance  of  a  few  rods  ;  on  the  east,  a  pasture  whose  hills 
rise  above  the  house.  But  this  situation,  however  solitary,  however  dreary 
it  may  appear  to  some,  lias  many  charms  for  me;  and  it  had  charms  for 
me  when  I  bebeld  it  with  the  eyes  of  a  stranger.  Ten  thousand  dear  as- 
sociations have  only  brightened  and  multiplied  its  charms.  This  family 
have  found  much  time  for  cultivating  their  minds.  Amid  domestic,  toil- 
some avocations,  very  few  are  willing  to  pay  the  price  of  knowledge,  that 
they  have  paid." 

"  In  this  sequestered  spot,  my  Nancy  was  early  taught  to  wield  the 
needle,  the  shuttle,  and  every  kitchen  implement." 


136  BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCHES    OF 

in  the  short  space  of  three  months,  in  reading,  writing, 
penmaking,  composition,  rhetoric,  English  grammar,  and 
the  rudiments  of  astronomy,  that  I  did  not  hesitate  to 
pronounce  her  the  biightest  scholar  I  ever  had  in  Fra- 
mingham,  and  the  best  acquainted  with  grammar  of  all 
my  female  acquaintances." 

"But  though  1  could  thus  admire  her  progress,  and 
the  powers  of  her  understanding  and  memory,  I  was  very 
far  from  feeling  any  particular  attachment  to  her  person. 
Mere  understanding  and  memory  are  by  no  means  the 
object  of  a  tender  attachment.  And  except  in  these  two 
particulars,  I  do  not  know  that  she  appeared  to  me  su- 
perior or  even  equal  to  many  other  females  of  my  ac- 
quaintance. It  is  therefore  probable,  that  at  that  time, 
I  could  judge  correctly  of  her  merit  compared  with  the 
rest  of  my  pupils." 

"  When  she  left  the  academy,  I  did  not  cease  to  in- 
struct her.  To  assist  in  expanding  and  storing  with 
knowledge  such  a  mind  as  hers,,  was  more  than  its  own 
reward  ;  and  I  am  still  left  to  doubt  whether  the  instruc- 
tor or  instructed  derived  most  satisfaction.  I  have  had 
the  honor  and  satisfaction  to  instruct  many,  but  such 
eager  attention  to  my  instructions,  I  never  witnessed  in 
another.  A  little  before  I  left  Framingham,  I  com- 
menced a  friendly  correspondence  with  her ;  which  was 
continued  with  little  interruption  until  it  was  changed 
into  a  correspondence  of  a  more  endearing  name.  In 
my  letters,  I  endeavored  to  direct  and  assist  her  in 
her  studies ;  and  to  hold  up  to  her  view  the  importance 
of  mental  improvement  and  the  superior  importance  of 
religion.  I  was  much  gratified  to  find  every  letter  she 
wrote,  in  almost  every  respect,  clearly  superior  to  the 
preceding.  She  did  not,  however,  appear  so  fond  of  ex- 
pressing her  feelings  upon  religion,  as  I  desired,  and  for 
years  I  was  ignorant  that  she  had  ever  entertained  a  hope 
that  she  was  a  child  of  God.  I  mention  this  to  my  own 
shame.  For  had  I  been  faithful,  she  no  doubt  would 
have  told  me  something  of  what  had  been  her  hopes  and 
of  what  were  her  fears.  All  the  time  she  could  gain  from 
domestic  employments  in  the  winter,  and  keeping  school 
in  the  summer,  (except  a  little  taken  up  in  visiting,)  was 
devoted  to  study.  This  amounted,  perhaps,  to  a  quarter 
part  of  her  time." 


HIS    FIRST    WIFE.  137 

"  At  length,  from  her  letters,  I  thought  1  could  collect 
some  evidence,  that  she  was  a  real  christian.  Then  I 
had  the  first  serious  thought  of  addressing  her  upon  a 
new  and  peculiarly  interesting  subject.  My  first  com- 
munication upon  this  subject,  was  in  Dec.  1802.  After 
that,  her  time  was  principally  devoted  to  study.  About 
the  middle  of  Jan.  1803,  I  carried  her  a  bible  and  Eu- 
clid's elements  of  geometry.  These  I  warmly  recom- 
mended to  her  daily  and  close  attention,  as  the  most  pro- 
fitable books  for  her,  within  my  knowledge.  Euclid  is  a 
book  not  often  recommended  to  females  by  their  lovers. 
It  has  sometimes  been  considered  as  one  of  the  dryest 
studies  at  college.  But  she  did  not  find  it  dry  nor  diffi- 
cult, except,  perhaps,  the  fifth  book.  And  the  whole 
difficulty  in  this,  appeared  to  arise  from  the  demonstra- 
tions being  algebraical  instead  of  geometrical ;  as  she 
had  paid  no  attention  to  algebra.  In  a  few  weeks,  with- 
out more  than  two  or  three  hours  instruction  upon  the 
subject,  she  acquired  a  more  thorough  and  familiar  knowl- 
edge of  the  first  six  books  of  Euclid,  than  almost  any 
other  person  of  my  acquaintance,  under  advantages  great- 
ly superior.  A  few  days  after  she  began  this  study,  she 
thus  wrote.  "  I  begin  to  be  considerably  interested  in 
the  study  of  E.  It  is  very  pleasing  to  see  the  connexion 
of  one  proposition  with  another."  It  was  her  opinion, 
and  it  is  mine,  that  the  study  of  Euclid  conduced  more 
than  almost  any  other,  to  the  improvement  of  her  mind. 
Several  other  branches  of  study  were  also  pursued,  which 
it  is  not  necessary  to  mention. 

"It  was  our  united  wish  that  she  might,  to  as  high  a 
degree  as  possible,  become  "  a  help"  to  her  husband. 
Accordingly,  in  the  beginning  of  May,  1803,  she  went 
to  Salem,  where  she  continued  about  four  months  in  the 
family  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Worcester.  There,  for  a  variety 
of  reasons,  she  was  much  pleased  with  her  situation. 
When  she  had  been  there  a  few  days,  she  observes,  in  a 
letter;  "  Tuesday  I  had  the  honor  to  be  introduced  to  a 
large  company  of  ladies.  How  strange,  and  yet  how 
pleasant,  to  find  their  almost  only  topic  of  conversation, 
was  religion!"  The  numerous  religious  meetings  of  one 
kind  and  another,  which  she  there  attended,  were,  I 
trust,  improved  to  her  growth  in  grace  and  in  knowledge. 
Her  progress  was  no  less  pleasing  than  astonishing  to  her 
12* 


138  BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCHES    OF 

nearest  friend.  What  renders  her  improvement  still  more 
astonishing,  while  at  Salem,  is  the  consideration,  that  a 
considerable  part  of  the  time,  there,  she  was  much  af- 
flicted with  the  head-ache,  and  by  no  means  in  firm 
health." 

"  In  October,  we  were  married,  and  shortly  after  she 
made  a  profession  of  religion.  In  order  to  pursue  our 
plan  of  improving  her  mind  as  much  as  possible,  it  was 
thought  much  better  to  spend  a  few  months  in  another 
family,  than  to  live  in  a  family  by  ourselves.  But  alas! 
such  were  her  increasing  infirmities,  that  our  pleasing 
expectations  were  not  fully  realized.  And  yet  I  must 
say,  that  her  progress  nearly  equalled  my  expectations, 
though  it  came  far  short  of  hers.  Notwithstanding  her 
infirmities,  which  in  about  four  months  rendered  her  al- 
most incapable  of  the  least  study,  her  improvements  were 
by  no  means  small.  Besides  devoting  much  attention  to 
religious  subjects,  she  acquired  some  knowledge  of  alge- 
bra, and  proceeded  nearly  as  far  in  the  study  of  natural 
philosophy,  as  is  customary  for  young  gentlemen  to  pro- 
ceed at  our  University.  It  was  matter  of  mutual  regret 
that  I  had  time  to  afford  her  so  little  assistance  in  this 
noble  and  interesting  study.  But  yet  it  was  pleasing  to 
observe  what  progress  she  could  make  with,  little  instruc- 
tion, when  she  was  scarcely  able  to  hold  up  her  head." 

"  The  above  facts  may  enable  the  reader  to  form  some 
opinion  of  her  understanding.  Indeed  she  was  just  such 
a  companion,  just  such  a  helper  as  I  had  ardently  desired. 
With  great  mutual  satisfaction,  we  could  converse  upon 
every  subject  with  which  I  had  any  acquaintance,  except 
the  learned  languages.  I  believe  our  sentiments  exactly 
corresponded  upon  every  subject  but  one ;  and  that  was 
expensive  furniture  ,  and  in  this  respect  her  sentiments 
were  more  like  mine  than  I  have  usually  found  among  her 
sex,  or  indeed  among  my  own." 

"The  strength  of  her  intellectual  faculties  and  her 
unusual  attainments  in  knowledge,  though  highly  prized 
by  her  husband,  were  greatly  surpassed  in  value  by  the 
qualities  of  her  heart.  The  qualities  of  her  heart,  I  do 
verily  believe,  no  language  can  fully  describe.  But  even 
if  my  pen  were  equal  to  the  task,  I  must  forbear.  I 
must  tell  what  she  did,  rather  than  attempt  to  describe 
what  she  was.     I  will  just  remark,  however,  that   I   do 


HIS    FIKST    WIFE.  139 

not  know  that  she  ever  had  a  personal  enemy ;  or  an  evil 
word  spoken  about  her.  I  believe  she  had  a  considerable 
number  of  sincere  friends.  Perhaps  few  persons  of  her 
age,  have  more.  These,  I  trust,  will  have  at  least  one 
friend,  as  long  as  her  surviving  husband  draws  the  breath 
of  life." 

"  She  said  she  always  esteemed  it  a  privilege  and  har> 
piness  to  unite  with  me  in  devotion  by  ourselves.  This 
was  begun  several  months  before  our  marriage,  and  our 
daily  practice  after.  Alas !  that  it  was  not  begun  sooner, 
and  practised  more  !  It  should  have  commenced,  Dec. 
1S02.  But  the  fault  was  principally  mine.  I  ought  to 
have  proposed  it.  No  doubt  it  would  have  received  her 
cordial  approbation.  At  the  conclusion  of  these  devo- 
tional exercises,  I  almost  always  found  her  in  a  flood  of 
tears.  Indeed  to  see  her  in  tears  was  a  sight  very  fa- 
miliar. They  were  tears  of  joy  and  gratitude  to  God.  1 
can  recollect  but  a  single  instance  of  seeing  in  her  eyes 
a  tear  of  grief.  And  that  fell,  not  from  the  pains  she  en- 
dured ;  not  from  her  peculiarly  trying  infirmities ;  not 
from  the  fear  of  pain ;  not  from  the  fear  of  death  ;  but 
she  wept  lest  she  should  be  instrumental  of  scandal  to 
religion  by  the  imputation  of  a  fault  which  she  had  not 
committed." 

Further  facts  of  deep  interest,  respecting  the  first  wife 
of  my  brother,  may  be  seen  in  the  memoir  of  his  second 
wife,  (p.  84,  and  sq.  of  the  first  ed.)  That  strangers  may 
see  the  estimate  which  other  persons  besides  my  brother 
placed  on  her  worth,  I  take  the  liberty  to  transfer  from 
that  work  the  following  brief  extract  from  a  letter  by  Miss 
H.  Adams  to  a  friend,  dated  June  27,  1804,  in  which  she 
says  : — "  I  never  felt  so  strong  an  affection  for  any  other 
person  upon  so  short  an  acquaintance.  Her  image  is  in- 
delibly fixed  in  my  mind.  I  never  again  expect  to  find 
such  a  happy  union  of  strength  of  intellect,  mental  culti- 
vation, sincerity  of  heart,  exquisite  sensibility,  true  femi- 
nine delicacy,  and  unassuming  modesty." 

Alas,  that  such  loveliness,  and  all  the  hopes  it  had  in- 
spired of  usefulness  on  earth,  should  have  left  us  in  a  day  ! 
Fven  so,  Father,  must  we  still  exclaim,  for  so  it  seemed 
good  in  thy  sight- 
It  has  been  supposed  by  some,  that  her  premature  exit 
was  hastened,  if  not  caused,  by  her  intense  mental  appli- 


140  VIEWS   OF 

cation.  I  know  not  what  was  the  opinion  of  her  bereaved 
husband  on  this  point ;  but  I  perceive,  by  several  of  his 
letters  previous  to  their  marriage,  that  his  fears  were 
greatly  excited,  when  her  health  began  to  fail ;  and  that 
he  cautioned  and  entreated  her,  in  the  strongest  terms,  to 
relax  her  studies.  Still  she  knew  full  well  the  pleasure 
which  her  acquisitions  afforded  him  ;  and  she  prized  them 
also  as  the  means  of  usefulness,  and  fed  on  them  as  the 
luxury  of  an  immortal  spirit.  It  is  not  strange,  then,  if 
such  cautions  were  as  powerless  in  her  case,  as  they  have 
so  often  proved  to  the  less  enthusiastic  mind  of  man.  A 
change  of  studies  would  have  promised  more.  After  such 
a  course  of  application  to  scientific  pursuits,  mere  reading, 
of  some  useful  kind,  might  have  diverted  while  it  occupied 
the  mind,  and  have  restored  instead  of  crushing  the  con- 
stitution. 

At  a  subsequent  period,  as  stated  in  the  memoir  of  his 
second  wife,  my  brother  was  led  to  a  considerable  change 
in  his  views  respecting  female  education.  While  he  still 
considered  females  as  adequate  as  the  stronger  sex,  to 
master  the  severer  studies,  such  as  mathematics  and  nat- 
ural philosophy,  he  embraced  the  opinion  that  a  different 
course  is  better  adapted  to  fit  them  for  usefulness  in  their 
appropriate  sphere.  I  know  not,  however,  that  the  dan- 
ger of  destroying  their  health,  was  any  part  of  the  general 
reason  for  this  change  in  his  system.  He  also  came  to 
the  belief,  that  mathematical  studies  occupy  quite  too 
large  a  space  in  the  customary  course  of  a  liberal  educa- 
tion for  men.  The  same  was  likewise  true  in  respect  to 
his  opinion  of  the  learned  languages.  In  a  word,  he  was 
led  to  believe,  that  the  mind  may  be  even  more  advan- 
tageously disciplined,  while  it  is,  at  the  same  time,  acquir- 
ing knowledge  of  a  more  practical  nature.  But  we  may 
have  occasion  to  advert  to  this  topic  in  the  sequel. 

I  return  to  the  course  of  events,  which  the  reader  will 
doubtless  prefer  still  to  trace  in  the  delineations  of  his 
own  pen. 

The  following,  to  his  sister  Rebecca  Eaton,  contains 
part  of  an  animating  exhortation  to  press  forward  in  the 
field  of  knowledge. 

Beverly,  Nov.  13,  130k 

My  dear  Sister, — Forgetting  the  things  that  are  be- 
hind, then,  press   forward.     "  The  wide,  the  unbounded 


FEMALE    EDUCATION,    ETC.  141 

prospect  lies  before  you."  As  you  advance,  the  shad- 
ows, clouds,  and  darkness,  that  now  may  rest  upon  it, 
that  now  may  frown  with  a  dismal  aspect,  and,  at  times, 
almost  shoot  discouragement  through  your  soul,  will  rap- 
idly disappear.  Every  flying  cloud,  every  retreating 
shadow,  will  leave  you  a  brighter,  more  animating  pros- 
pect. And,  if  you  be  indeed  upon  the  Rock  of  ages,  your 
prospect  will  brighten  and  brighten  to  all  eternity.  Rise, 
then,  O  rise  above  this  contemptible  world.  But  do  not 
rise  alone,  unless  cruel  necessity  compel  you.  Leave  not 
our  dear  younger  sisters  to  grope  their  way  in  the  dark 
valley  of  ignorance.  Seize  them  by  the  hand,  and  lead 
them,  I  had  almost  said,  drag  them  up  the  steep  and  nar- 
row, unfrequented  path,  with  yourself.  It  is  possible  that 
N.  T.  and  N.  F.  may  be  persuaded  to  bear  you  company. 
If  you  please,  you  may  show  them  this  letter,  or  read  them 
a  part  of  it;  and  tell  them  that  my  heart's  desire  and 
prayer  to  God  for  them,  and  for  all  the  young  people  in  F. 
is,  that  they  may  rise  above  trifles — to  the  heaven  of 
heavens. 

The  writings  of  my  departed  wife  are  a  treasure  that 
gold  could  not  buy.  Why  did  I  neglect  to  take  copies  of 
the  letters  she  wrote  to  our  family  while  at  Salem  and 
Beverly  1  1  trust  those  to  whom  they  were  addressed 
will  be  kind  enough  to  transcribe  and  send  them  as  soon 
as  possible.  Every  thing  I  ever  wrote  to  my  other  self,  is 
greatly  endeared  by  her  death.  How  much  her  death  has 
endeared  her  surviving  friends,  I  cannot  express. 

Joseph  Emerson. 

He  wrote  many  letters  to  my  father,  which  have  been 
lost.  The  following  is  among  the  few  that  have  come  to 
my  hand. 

Bererlij,  i\  or.  21,1304. 
MY    EVER    HONORED    AND    DEAR    FATHER, As     I     have 

much  to  do,  and  but  little  strength,  I  hope  you  will  not  be 
grieved  at  the  shortness  of  my  letter.  Though  I  am  con- 
siderably better  than  I  was  a  few  months  ago,  yet  I  am 
not  well,  by  many  degrees.  Though  I  have  reason  to  bless 
God  for  the  wonderful  support  he  has  afforded  me,  yet 
sometimes  I  feel  almost  ready  to  sink  under  the  increasing 
weight  of  my  sorrows.  I  can  generally  sleep  quietly,  how- 
ever ;  and  while  this  continues  to  be  the  case,  I  suppose. 


142  GRIEF EDUCATION,    ETC. 

my  grief  will  not  prove  greatly  injurious  to  my  health.  I 
am  almost  discouraged  in  using  means  for  the  recovery  of 
my  health.  If,  however,  I  could  go  upon  a  mission  two 
or  three  months,  I  think  it  would  prove  advantageous; 
but  the  winter  weather  would  probably  be  too  severe  for 
my  feeble  frame.  Indeed  a  journey  now  might  be  more 
injurious  than  beneficial. 

If  W.  should  go  to  college,  I  should  wish  by  all  means 
to  have  the  tutoring  of  him  a  few  months  first.  Not  to 
mention  fifty  other  deficiencies,  not  a  quarter  part,  when 
they  enter  college,  can  read  tolerably  ;  nor  half,  when  they 
leave  college.  Many  things,  of  the  greatest  importance, 
are  neglected  at  academies,  and  at  college  too.  Univer- 
sity degrees,  without,  an  education,  I  do  despise  more  and 
more.  But  I  forbear,  for  I  sometimes  grow  warm  upon 
this  subject. 

Scarcely  any  money  would  induce  me  to  take  a  person 
into  my  chamber  ;  but  my  brother  I  would  consent  to 
have  for  my  chum.  For  this  I  have  a  greater  reason,  re- 
lating to  him,  than  I  have  yet  mentioned.  If  he  comes,  I 
will  tell  him  what  it  is.  You  may  easily  conjecture.  It 
is  very  probable  I  shall  continue  at  Mr.  Dike's  as  long  as 
I  live.  My  situation  here  is  peculiarly  commodious  for 
study. 

I  shall  never  want  a  subject  for  interesting  meditation, 
as  long  as  I  remember  my  Nancy's  virtues.  Her  writings 
are  a  precious  treasure  ;  and  not  only  hers  to  me,  but 
mine  to  her,  are  unspeakably  interesting  to  her  bereaved 
husband.  Indeed,  I  find  a  satisfaction,  though  it  is  often 
a  melancholy  pleasure,  in  reading  what  I  wrote  about  her. 
I. would  gladly  preserve  every  line  I  ever  wrote  upon  the 
endearing  subject.  I  have  therefore  to  request  that  my 
Holies  friends  would  lend  me  the  letters  1  have  written 
upon  the  subject,  long  enough  for  me  to  take  copies  of 
them ;  or  if  any  of  my  brothers  or  sisters  are  enough  at 
leisure  to  take  copies  and  send  me,  I  should  receive  the 
favor  with  gratitude.  I  should  be  very  glad  to  see  the 
sermon  of  brother  Smith,  Rev.  22:  12.* 

Love  to  my  mother,  grandmother,  brothers,  and  sisters, 
and  to  my  dear  little  nieces  and  nephews. 

Your  son,  Joseph  Emerson. 

*  Preached  at  the  funeral  of  his  wife. 


DANCING.  143 

The  reader  may  recollect  some  notice  of  my  brother's 
fondness  for  dancing,  at  an  early  period,  and  what  a  temp- 
tation it  was  to  him  to  postpone  the  calls  of  religion.  His 
subsequent  views  of  that  vain  amusement,  may  be  gath- 
ered from  the  following  extract. 

Beverly,  Jan.  4,1805. 

My  dear  Sister, — Though  I  am  pressed,  I  had  al- 
most said,  pressed  above  measure  by  numerous  and  im- 
portant duties,  still  I  can  no  longer  postpone  the  delightful 
employment  of  writing  to  a  sister,  who,  1  doubt  not,  is  also 
a  friend. 

A  new  year  is  begun.  O  that  it  may  be  a  new  year 
indeed,  a  blessed  new  year  to  you,  to  me,  to  our  friends, 
to  the  people  of  F.  Poor,  stupid  people  !  Alas  !  what 
will  become  of  them?     Will  they  then,  as  it  were, 

"  Sport  round  the  shroud,  and  dance  into  the  iomb  V 

P.  F.,  too;  she  among  the  children  of  dissipation  !  I 
conversed  with  her  upon  the  soul-ensnaring  subject. 
She  appeared  solemn.  I  dared  to  hope  that  she  had  for- 
saken the  ball-room  forever,  and  was  about  to  turn  her 
influence  against  the  midnight  revel.  She  was  among 
the  dear  youth  whom  I  once  addressed  as  pupils.  Bright 
intelligence,  ah !  whither  is  thy  resolution  fled  ?  Wilt 
thou  sell  thyself  to  Satan  for  less  than  a  toy  ?  Surely  Satan 
has  come  down  with  great  wrath.  O  that  his  time  may  be 
short.  And  I  trust  his  time  will  be  short.  The  poor 
dancers  will  find  their  time  of  dancing  short.  When  they 
are  summoned  into  the  eternal  world,  when  they  are  call- 
ed hence  to  meet  their  Judge,  something  else  must  engage 
their  attention  besides  dancing.  How  will  they  then  re- 
flect upon  the  time  when  hand  in  hand  they  led  each  in 
the  dance,  when  hand  in  hand  they  led  each  other  to  de- 
struction. I  know  we  read,  (Ec.  3:4,)  of  a  time  to 
dance.  But  only  consider  this  passage  in  its  connection, 
and  you  will  see  that  it  no  more  proves  dancing  to  be 
right,  than  other  passages  prove  war,  killing,  hatred,  and 
every  purpose  under  the  sun,  to  be  right.  Neither  can  any 
argument  be  drawn  from  the  example  of  David  or  others, 
as  their  dancing  was  essentially  different  from  that  of  the 
present  day,  unless,  perhaps,  the  dancing  of  the  Israelites 


144  CLOSE    QUESTIONS,    ETC. 

about  the  golden  calf,  may  bear  some  resemblance  to  the 
modern  practice.  If  I  wished  to  lead  as  many  as  possible 
blindfold  to  destruction,  I  would  preach  up  dancing. 

But,  notwithstanding  this  melancholy  intelligence,  still 
R.'s  letter  was  an  animating  cordial  to  my  soul.  O  how 
my  heart  panted  to  be  with  you  at  your  conferences ! — to 
see  the  young  people  collecting  together  to  hear  eternal 
truth  !  The  information  respecting  W.  was  news  indeed. 
Why  has  he  not  come  to  Beverly  to  tell  us  what  he  hoped 
God  had  done  for  his  soul  ?  May  I  not  expect  shortly  to 
see  him  and  yourself?  Let  no  trifles  prevent,  I  entreat 
you. 

And  now  let  me  inquire,  how  is  it  with  you  ?  Do  you 
entertain  any  hope  that  you  have  passed  from  death  to  life  1 
Do  you  love  the  friends  of  Jesus  1  And  do  you  love  the 
Lord  Jesus  himself  with  a  sincere  affection,  a  supreme 
affection,  an  undivided  love  ?  Do  you  see  and  feel  your 
own  unworthiness,  your  desert  of  wrath,  and  exposedness 
to  hell  ?  Do  you  see  the  fulness,  the  sufficiency,  the  beauty, 
the  loveliness,  there  is  in  Jesus  ?  Are  you  willing  to  take 
him  for  your  Redeemer,  your  Prophet,  Priest,  and  King, 
your  Intercessor  and  Advocate,  your  Lord,  and  Master, 
and  Judge,  your  all  in  all  ?  If  you  are  not,  then  surely 
you  are  ignorant  of  his  worth,  you  have  not  tasted  his 
charms  ;  you  have  not  seen  his  beauty.  Dear  sister,  take 
heed  lest  Satan  or  your  own  heart  deceive  you.  It  is  not 
a  small  change  to  be  born  again.  It  is  not  a  small  matter 
to  be  a  christian  indeed.  It  is  an  easy  thing  to  say,  "  I 
love  Christ."  But  it  is  a  great  thing  to  say,  with  real  sin- 
cerity, "  My  Redeemer  is  mine,  and  I  am  his." 

Jan.  14,  1804. — The  religious  prospect  here  is  agreea- 
ble and  animating.  Were  it  otherwise,  you  might  expect 
shortly  to  see  me.  Eleven  were  added  to  our  church,  the 
last  communion.  Happy  times — happy  times,  indeed  ! 
When  they  came  to  present  themselves  before  the  Lord  in 
public,  they  spread  along  the  aisle  like  a  cloud.  How  an- 
imating to  see  clouds  of  sinners  flying  to  Christ ! — B.  was 
one  of  the  happy  company,  as  I  suppose  her  letter  informs 
you. 

The  bible!  the  bible! — read  the  bible,  S.,  night  and 
day.  I  have  lately  read  it  with  more  pleasure  than  I  ever 
did  before.  I  have  read  scarcely  any  thing  else  since  1 
saw  you.     The  precious,  precious  word,  seems  more  and 


MEMENTOS    OF    HIS    WIFE.  145 

more  precious.  I  want  to  tell  you  many  things  about  this 
dear  and  important  subject.  But  I  must  forbear.  And 
yet  I  must  tell  you  one  word.  Study  the  geography  of 
Canaan  and  the  adjacent  countries,  even  if  you  neglect 
that  of  your  own  country.  If  you  would  study  astronomy, 
let  me  entreat  you  to  turn  your  attention  to  the  rising,  the 
radiance,  the  beauties,  and  the  glories  of  the  "  Bright  and 
Morning  Star." 

From  your  affectionate  brother, 
Miss  Sukey  Eaton.  Joseph  Emerson. 

The  revivals,  which  commenced  with  the  present  cen- 
tury, had  not  then  become  so  extensive,  nor,  in  many 
places,  so  powerful,  as  at  the  present  day.  He  rejoiced 
to  see  ca  cloud  of  eleven.'  Happy  for  us,  if  gratitude  in- 
creases in  proportion  to  the  numbers  we  now  occasionally 
see. 

He  continued  to  feel  his  bereavement ;  but  I  can  find 
room  for  only  a  small  portion  more  of  what  he  wrote  on 
the  affecting  theme.  Thus  he  touches  on  the  subject, 
May  24,  1805.  "  Thursday  morning,  I  visited  the  noble 
beech,  now  sacred  to  the  memory  of  my  departed  Nancy. 
I  found  it  more  affecting  than  I  had  ever  found  it  before. 
Surely  time  can  never  wipe  away  the  traces  of  tender  affec- 
tion engraven  on  my  heart  towards  the  wife  of  my  bosom, 
and  the  companion  of  my  soul." 

On  being  informed  of  a  child,  who  bore  the  name  of 
Nancy  Emerson,  he  says — "  This  intelligence  kindled 
emotions  I  cannot  express.  I  would  gladly  have  kissed  a 
child  of  so  dear  a  name."  He  enclosed  a  piece  of  gold  to 
her  mother,  with  the  direction — "  Should  she  who  bears 
the  name  of  my  dear  departed  wife,  live  to  be  ten  years 
old,  you  are  requested  to  lay  out  the  enclosed  to  purchase 
a  bible  for  her  use." 

The  reader  has  perhaps  lately  noticed  the  suggestion  of 
my  brother,  about  spending  a  month  or  two  on  a  mission. 
The  following  will  show  what  kind  of  mission  he  had  in 
view,  and  what  were  his  feelings  on  the  subject.  The  ex- 
tract is  from  a  letter  written  just  after  he  had  attended  the 
meeting  of  the  Massachusetts  Missionary  Society,  and  is 
dated  May  29,  1805. 

"  Missionary  affairs  appear  to  be  flourishing.     Contribu- 
tions have  been  more  liberal  than  in  any  preceding  year. 
13 


146  MISSIONARY    SPIRIT. 

May  the  Lord  send  us  prosperity.  How  fervently  do  I 
desire  to  preach  the  gospel  to  the  perishing  poor,  and  to 
feed  the  hungry  lambs  in  our  back  settlements.  For  this, 
I  could  cheerfully  leave  my  dear  people,  and  be  absent 
from  them  for  weeks,  months,  years, — till  death.  But 
perhaps  I  can  do  more  good  here  than  any  where  else." 

Where,  since  the  gospel  was  first  preached  unto  the 
Gentiles,  has  the  soul  of  true  devotion  been  found,  that 
could  fail  to  kindle  at  the  thought  of  the  missionary  work, 
whether  at  home  or  abroad  ?  Men  may  indeed  long  for 
this  work,  and  enter  it  in  person,  or  carry  it  on  by  proxy, 
who  yet  have  no  true  zeal  for  God.  Native  pity,  a  ro- 
mantic disposition,  a  love  of  daring  enterprise,  possibly  a 
love  of  fame,  each  or  all  combined,  may  induce  some  to 
enter  the  work  who  are  strangers  to  the  etherial  flame  of 
love  to  dying  souls.  But  where  is  the  man,  the  woman, 
the  child,  in  whose  bosom  this  pure  flame  is  brightly  glow- 
ing, that  would  not  leap  to  be  a  missionary  ?  And  yet, 
the  well  balanced  mind  will  readily  obey  the  dictates  of 
duty  to  stay  at  home,  if  that  appears  the  appropriate  sphere 
of  its  usefulness.  And  beyond  a  question,  the  individual 
who  shows  a  truly  missionary  spirit  at  home,  uncheered  by 
the  gaze  and  the  acclamations  of  Christendom,  affords 
much  the  most  unequivocal  evidence  of  piety.  At  home 
or  abroad,  this  is  the  spirit  that  all  should  cherish  :  and 
the  spirit  without  which  none  can  expect  to  be  eminently 
useful  or  happy. 

Before  closing  this  chapter,  it  may  be  proper  to  remark 
on  one  method  pursued,  about  this  time,  by  my  brother, 
for  the  three-fold  purpose  of  religious  devotion,  of  teaching 
his  young  people  to  read  the  bible  with  propriety,  and  of 
imparting  religious  instruction.  To  accomplish  this  ob- 
ject, he  met  such  as  chose,  and  spent  about  an  hour  with 
them  in  the  morning.  According  to  the  best  of  my  recol- 
lection, (for  I  was  then  passing  a  few  months  with  him,) 
between  thirty  and  forty  usually  attended  these  morning 
readings.  Most  of  them  were  females,  a  few  of  whom  had 
families.  Some,  like  myself,  were  boys.  These  meetings 
were  partly  occupied  in  singing  and  prayer ;  but  mostly 
in  reading  a  short  portion  of  scripture  which  had  before 
been  designated  for  the  purpose  of  thorough  study  in  re- 
gard to  the   sense,  pauses,  emphasis,  every  thing   which 


MORNING    SCHOOL.  14? 

might  conduce  to  its  proper  and  forcible  enunciation  in 
reading.  The  easiest  passages,  such  as  the  first  chapter 
of  John,  were  selected  ;  for  even  these  were  found  suffi- 
ciently hard  for  the  best  of  us.  Each  individual,  in  turn, 
was  called  on  to  read  a  verse.  My  brother  would  then 
read  the  same.  The  individual  would  then  be  requested 
to  read  it  again.  Explanation  ensued,  with  reasons  for 
the  emphasis,  cadences,  etc.  Then  perhaps  the  reader 
would  be  requested  to  repeat  the  phrases  of  the  passage 
after  him,  in  just  the  same  tones,  etc.,  and  finally  to  read 
the  whole,  with  as  much  improvement  on  his  model  as 
possible.  And  whenever  any  thing  approaching  to  such 
improvement,  was  discerned,  it  was  sure  to  be  noticed  with 
at  least  sufficient  commendation.  Sometimes,  many  min- 
utes were  spent  on  a  single  verse ;  but  always  with  deep 
interest.  It  was  an  extremely  delicate  task  to  conduct 
this  public  drilling,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  show  those, 
who  might  before  think  themselves  good  readers,  that  they 
had  yet  to  learn  some  of  the  first  principles  of  good  read- 
ing. But  this  he  generally  succeeded  in  doing,  in  such  a 
manner  as  but  little  to  mortify,  and  not  at  all  to  discour- 
age, his  voluntary  pupil.  To  retain  the  ground  already 
gained,  the  lessons  of  preceding  mornings  were  frequently 
read  over  at  the  beginning  or  the  close  of  the  exercise. 
Attention  never  flagged  ;  and  it  was  not  easy  to  say,  which 
was  most  pleased,  the  teacher  or  the  taught.  It  was  de- 
lightful to  see  how  much  more  meaning  there  was  in  a 
simple  passage,  than  we  had  before  imagined  ;  and  equally 
delightful,  to  learn  how  to  express  that  meaning.  The 
exercise  was  as  much  adapted  to  teach  us  to  think,  as  to 
read.  Indeed,  there  can  be  no  good  reading,  without 
thinking,  without  nice  discrimination,  both  as  to  what  the 
author  would  mean,  and  what  he  would  not  mean. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  designate,  by  any  single  phrase, 
the  peculiar  nature  of  the  lessons  or  lectures  of  this 
"  morning  school,"  as  he  called  it.  They  contained  in- 
struction in  music,  theology,  rhetoric,  logic,  metaphysics, 
and  the  art  of  imitating  tones.  No  one,  who  did  not  well 
understand  these  branches,  could  have  given  such  lec- 
tures. About  one  hour  was  usually  occupied  at  a  time.  I 
should  have  said,  in  its  proper  place,  that  sometimes  the 
same  verse  was  put  round  to  several,  or  to  the  whole,  to 
read  in  succession.     The  utmost  freedom  in  asking  ques- 


148  PAROCHIAL  INSTRUCTION. 

tions,  was  encouraged.  I  greatly  doubt  whether  an  equal 
amount  of  important  instruction,  has  ever  been  conveyed  to 
my  mind,  by  any  single  individual,  in  an  equal  number  of 
hours.  It  is,  however,  to  be  understood,  that  I  was  then 
young  and  untaught ; — but  is  it  not  equally  to  be  consid- 
ered, that  every  minister  has  among  his  charge  a  large 
number  in  the  same  condition.  If  they  are  sufficiently 
congregated  in  dense  neighborhoods,  and  the  minister 
have  the  time  and  the  requisite  tact  for  such  an  exercise, 
he  will  find  it  extremely  interesting  and  useful. 

I  might  also  mention  his  exertions  in  aid  of  the  very 
able  leaders  in  their  sacred  music,  to  improve  this  branch 
of  divine  worship  in  his  parish.  I  might  also  dwell  on  his 
efforts  in  collecting,  arranging,  enlarging,  and  rendering 
highly  useful,  the  public  religious  library  of  his  people, 
which  himself  took  the  charge  of  for  many  years,  if  not 
during  his  whole  ministry  among  them.  I  might  dwell  on 
the  methods  he  pursued  for  exciting,  and  sustaining,  and 
directing  a  taste  for  reading,  such  as  his  frequent  recom- 
mendation, in  his  preaching  and  in  private,  not  only  of 
reading  in  general,  but  of  particular  books  to  be  read, 
with  the  specific  objects  for  which  he  would  have  them 
read.     But  it  is  quite  time  to  close  this  chapter. 


CHAPTER    VII 


FROM    IIIS    SECOND    MARRIAGE    TO    THE    LAST    SICKNESS    OF 
HIS    WIFE.        1805—1808. 

His  marriage — Notices  of  her  previous  life — Her  intima- 
cy with  his  frst  wife — Character — Directions  to  a  col- 
lege student — Pastoral  labors — Extempore  preaching. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  the  summer  of  1805,  that  he 
became  united  in  a  second  marriage,  to  Miss  Eleanor 
Read,  with  whom  his  first  wife  became  acquainted  while 
residing  in  Salem.  The  mutual  esteem  and  affection  ex- 
isting between  these  sister  spirits,  doubtless  led  the  way  to 
this  second  connexion.  Had  it  not  been  for  such  attach- 
ment, and  for  some  of  the  peculiar  circumstances  growing 
out  of  it,  probably  he  would  not  again  so  soon  have  be- 
come connected  in  this  relation.  The  whole  will  best  be 
explained  by  the  following  extract  from  a  letter  to  Miss 
Adams,  a  warm  and  intimate  friend  to  each  of  them. 

"  You  know  something  of  what  I  lost  in  my  Nancy, 
endeared  to  my  soul  by  every  tie — too  bright  for  earth — 
too  excellent  for  me.  For  months,  the  wound  grew  deeper 
and  deeper — and  no  created  bosom  on  which  I  might  lean, 
whose  sympathy  might  solace  my  affliction.  The  world 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  glowing  energies  and  height- 
ened virtues  of  my  Nancy.  God  pointed  my  view  to  her 
dear  friend — the  only  guest  invited  to  our  nuptials — the 
very  image  of  her  own  soul.  I  paused,  I  pondered,  I 
prayed,  I  took  advice,  and  addressed  my  Eleanor. 

"  She  seemed,  and  still  seems,  an  angel  of  consolation, 
sent  to  pour  the  oil  of  sympathetic  tenderness  into  my 
bleeding  bosom,  and  mitigate  my  woes.  Not  by  charm- 
ing the  ten  thousand  endearments  of  my  Nancy  into  ob- 
13* 


150  NOTICES    OF    HIS 

livion.  God  forbid  that  I  should  ever  forget  her,  or  recol- 
lect with  indifference  her  numberless,  nameless  smiles, 
virtues,  graces,  and  sympathies,  that  once  delighted,  as- 
tonished, enraptured,  her  lover — her  husband.  With  my 
Eleanor  I  converse  freely,  frequently,  and  most  endear- 
ingly, about  my  Nancy.  We  are  both  equally  fond  of  the 
melancholy,  most  animating  subject.  I  have  not  the  least 
doubt  that  she  loves  me  the  better  for  my  former  connex- 
ion with  her  friend  ;  and  I  can  truly  say  that  the  more  I 
loved  my  N.  the  more  1  can  love  my  E.,  and  the  more  I 
love  my  E.  the  more  I  can  love  the  memory  of  my  N. 

"  Perhaps  I  am  teaching  you  a  new  lesson ;  a  lesson 
hard  indeed  for  the  world  to  understand  ;  and  which  per- 
haps you  can  hardly  conceive.  Novels  and  speculations 
upon  love,  may  be  erroneous.  Perhaps  nothing  but  expe- 
rience can  bring  a  person  to  realize  the  truth  of  what  I 
feel.  Perhaps  he  only  who  has  reciprocated  love  with  an 
N.  and  an  E.,  can  fully  realize  the  truth  of  my  assertion. 
I  did  not  expect  that  others  would  view  the  subject  in  the 
same  light  with  myself.  But  I  confess  I  was  disappointed 
and  not  a  little  distressed,  to  find  that  they  viewed  it  en- 
tirely different." 

'The  light  in  which  some  others  viewed  it  differently 
from  himself,'  I  suppose  had  respect  simply  to  the  time 
which  had  elapsed  after  the  death  of  his  former  wife.  Nor 
was  this  time  very  uncommonly  short,  being,  in  fact,  more 
than  a  year.  But  whether  it  be  deemed  uncommonly 
long  or  not,  I  presume  most  of  the  readers,  like  his  inti- 
mates at  the  time,  will  be  fully  satisfied  with  such  a  state- 
ment as  the  above. 

It  will  not  be  needful  to  say  much  here,  respecting  his 
second  wife,  as  a  Memoir  of  her  was  published  soon  af- 
ter her  death,  a  portion  of  which  has  since  been  very 
widely  and  profitably  circulated  in  the  shape  of  a  tract. 
She  was  born  at  Northbridge,  Dec.  19,  1777;  was  natur- 
ally of  a  slender  constitution,  inclining  to  consumption  ; 
was  often  very  sick,  and  afllicted  with  extreme  pain,  and 
occasionally  brought  so  low  that  her  life  was  despaired  of. 
In  childhood,  she  was  exceedingly  fond  of  reading.  At 
the  age  of  fourteen,  she  commenced  her  delightful  em- 
ployment of  school-teaching,  which  she  pursued  in  differ- 
ent places,  and  with  some  intermissions,  till  her  marriage. 


SECOND    WIFE.  151 

Her  success  in  teaching,  was  far  beyond  most  of  her  co- 
temporaries  of  either  sex. 

While  residing  in  Bennington,  Vt.  in  the  early  part  of 
the  year  1804,  she  was  hopefully  brought  to  repentance. 
The  long  and  thrilling  "  account  of  her  religious  exer- 
cises" at  that  time,  is  contained  in  the  tract  just  men- 
tioned. Soon  after  this  change,  she  came  to  Salem,  in 
hope  that  the  salt  water  would  benefit  her  health.  There, 
in  the  family  of  Dr.  Worcester,  was  she  first  introduced 
to  her  predecessor.  I  subjoin  a  small  portion  of  her  ac- 
count of  their  first  interview,  found  in  her  journal  and 
published  in  her  memoir. 

?'  After  the  company  had  withdrawn,  the  amiable  Miss 
Eaton  invited  me  to  retire  to  rest,  lest  the  fatigue  of  the 
day  should  prove  too  much  for  my  debilitated  state  of 
health.  1  accepted  her  kind  invitation;  nor  shall  I  ever 
forget  her  gentle  affability  and  tender  concern  for  me,  till 
I  lose  all  relish  for  the  sweets  of  social  intercourse,  and 
become  insensible  to  the  endearments  of  refined  friend- 
ship. Delightful  moments  !  I  shall  ever  remember  them 
among  the  happiest  of  my  life.  I  then  fondly  consider- 
ed them  the  commencement  of  a  permanent  friendship, 
founded,  not  on  the  slender  basis  of  female  loquacity,  but 
on  the  eternal  rock,  Christ  Jesus." 

"  Though  my  first  impressions  from  her  appearance 
were  rather  pleasing  than  otherwise,  yet  1  considered  her 
at  a  great  remove  from  what  1  afterwards  found  her. 
Destitute  of  that  dazzling  beauty,  which  some  may  boast, 
she  possessed  a  countenance  peculiarly  interesting,  ac- 
companied with  an  indescribable  something  in  her  whole 
demeanor,  which  induced  me  to  wish  for  further  acquaint- 
ance." 

"  The  night  presented  a  happy  opportunity  to  gratify 
this  desire.  Weak  as  1  was,  1  felt  too  strong  a  desire  to 
explore  my  new  found  treasure,  to  indulge  a  moment  in 
drowsy  forgetfulness.  Totally  unacquainted  with  her 
family,  employment,  and  place  of  nativity,  it  was  suf- 
ficient for  me,  that  she  understood  the  sweet  language  of 
Canaan,  which  1  had  so  recently  began  to  lisp.  I  had 
therefore  a  high  relish  for  her  instructive  conversation ; 
and  was  almost  ready  to  wish,  that  the  night  could  be  pro- 
tracted to  the  a<re  of  an  antediluvian"       *     *     * 


152  NOTICES    OF    HIS    WIFE. 

" We  resumed  our  conversation  in  the  morning;  and 
she  assured  me,  that  she  never  before  felt  so  great  free- 
dom in  opening  her  heart  to  any  one,  on  so  short  an  ac- 
quaintance ;  and  that  nothing  would  be  more  gratifying 
to  her,  than  to  have  me  reside  near  her.  I  felt  an  un- 
usual regret  at  leaving  her  ;  and  we  agreed  upon  an  epis- 
tolary correspondence,  provided  I  should  not  return  to 
Salem.  In  taking  my  leave,  being  urged  by  a  singular 
impulse,  I  saluted  my  dear  Miss  Eaton,  and  bade  her 
farewell ;  but  I  am  persuaded,  I  shall  long  remember 
her ;  and,  O  that  I  might  spend  a  happy  eternity  with  her, 
in  admiring  the  free  grace  of  our  dearest  Redeemer." 

• 

She  soon  returned  to  Salem,  where  my  brother  became 
acquainted  with  her,  and  where  she  continued  to  reside 
and  to  teach  a  school,  till  near  the  time  of  their  marriage. 

I  will  here  add,  that,  while  in  many  respects  there 
was  a  striking  resemblance  between  these  two  women, 
there  were  also  some  points  of  contrast,  according  to  the 
best  of  my  recollections.  His  second  wife  was  prompt, 
energetic,  fluent,  and  often  extremely  eloquent,  in  con- 
versation. Wit  and  humor,  she  possessed  and  relished 
in  a  high  degree.  If  called  to  make  her  way  among 
strangers,  few  females  of  equal  modesty,  would  be  likely 
to  succeed  so  well.  In  these  and  perhaps  some  other 
points,  I  suppose  there  was  a  dissimilarity,  though  I  can- 
not confidently  trust  to  impressions  of  character,  received 
at  so  early  a  period  of  my  life,  and  on  so  small  an  ac- 
quaintance as  I  had  with  the  first  of  the  two. 

An  additional  proof  of  his  continual  care  for  the  edu- 
cation of  his  relations  and  friends,  is  found  in  the  follow- 
ing. 

Beverly,  Dec.  3,  1803. 

Dear  Brother  R. — I  have  owed  you  a  letter  for 
some  months.  The  most  I  can  do  now  is,  to  pay  the 
interest,  and  beg  you  to  wait  with  patience  a  little  longer 
for  the  principal.  I  wish  you  to  consider  how  many 
creditors  I  have  of  one  kind  and  another  who  are  con- 
stantly calling  upon  me  and  endeavor  to  be  as  favorable 
as  you  can.  I  expect  to  die  insolvent,  but  think  I  am 
disposed  to  do  something  for  all  my  creditors. 

What  have  you  been  doing,  what  have  you  been 
thinking,  for  months  past?     Persons  of  improved  minds 


MISCELLANEOUS.  153 

may  have  constantly  a  source  of  enjoyment  within  them- 
selves, of  which  others  have  no  conception.  But  even 
an  improved  mind  without  religion,  cannot  enjoy  nor 
conceive  that  sublime  satisfaction  of  which  the  heirs  of 
immortality  are  capable.  I  wish  you  to  learn  to  read. 
And  for  this  purpose,  you  may  find  great  advantage  in 
learning  to  speak  dialogues  and  single  pieces.  Now  is 
the  best  time  to  learn  to  read;  and  be  assured,  you  can- 
not read  well  without  learning.  I  wish  I  could  have 
opportunity  to  tutor  you  an  hour  in  the  day  for  a  fort- 
night. Perhaps  you  will  find  it  convenient  this  winter 
to  make  me  a  visit  of  a  week  or  two.  Many  other  things 
also  I  wish  you  to  learn.  Have  you  determined  whether 
to  go  to  college?  This  matter  must  not  be  long  left  un- 
determined. 

Many  things  are  desirable  ;  but  remember,  "one  thing 
is  needful." 

Health,  peace,  and  happiness  to  all   the  family. 

TO    MISS    R.    EATON. 

Beverly,  Jan.  2,  180G. 

Dear  Sister, — Your  letter  to  my  wife,  I  consider  the 
same,  as  a  letter  to  me.  Upon  the  same  principle,  as 
she  is  unable  to  write,  having  already  written  a  long  let- 
ter to-day,  I  hope  you  will  receive  this  as  an  answer  to 
yours.  Your  letter  is  not  merely  acceptable,  but  a  de- 
lightful cordial  to  us  both.  It  rejoices  my  heart  to  think 
that  I  have  been  enabled  to  do  something  for  your  im- 
provement. Were  it  in  my  power,  most  gladly  would  I 
do  much  more.  But  you  do  not  need  human  instruction 
as  in  the  infancy  of  your  understanding.  Taking  all 
proper  heed  not  to  injure  your  health,  especially  not  to 
injure  your  eyes — press  forward  and  be  what  Nancy  was 
— what  Nancy  is. 

Dear  departed  saint !  though  I  do  not  feel  for  her  that 
inexpressible  gloom  that  I  have  felt  in  months  past,  yet 
I  can  truly  say,  that  the  memory  of  her  excellencies  is 
more  and  more  endearing.  I  trust  we  shall  soon  meet 
her. 

I  have  lately  in  some  measure  matured  my  plan  of  a 
historical  scriptural  catechism.  It  is  uncertain,  however, 
when  I  shall   finish  it ;  and   still  more    uncertain   when 


154  HIS    CATECHISM,    ETC. 

or  whether  it  will  ever  be  published.  I  think,  however, 
it  will  be  profitable  to  me,  in  giving  me  a  more  regular 
and  connected  view  of  scripture  history  than  I  had  before. 
I  will  mention  the  heads.  Perhaps  it  may  be  profitable 
for  you  to  commit  them  to  memory ;  and  search  the  scrip- 
tures to  extend  your  knowledge  of  them.  Attend  as  far 
and  closely  as  possible  to  the  causes  and  effects  of  the 
several  events  and  things  mentioned  in  the  heads. 

My  Eleanor  has  just  read  the  above,  and  says  it  must 
not  pass  for  her  answer.  Consequently  you  must  give  me 
credit  for  this,  and  expect  one  from  her  shortly. 

Beverly,  May  21,  1806. 

Dear  Sister  S. — Have  you  procured  Edwards's  His- 
tory of  Redemption  ?  How  much  have  you  read  in  it  1 
How  much  do  you  read  in  it  every  day  ?  Are  you  de- 
lighted with  it,  and  exceedingly  edified  1  Now  is  your 
time  for  improvement.  Much  of  your  time,  as  well  as 
of  mine,  has  run  to  waste.  Write  me  word  what  you 
have  done,  what  you  are  doing,  and  what  you  are  intend- 
ing to  do.  Press  forward  in  your  holy  race.  Take  fast 
hold  of  instruction.  Cry  after  knowledge,  and  lift  up 
your  voice  for  understanding.  Do  not  say,  do  not  think 
there  is  a  lion  in  the  way. 

Most  gladly  would  I  write  to  my  parents  and  each  of 
my  brothers  and  sisters.  But  considering  the  duties  of 
my  high  employment,  I  trust  they  will  forgive  the  seeming 
neglect.  A  visit  from  either  of  them  would  render  the 
pleasantness  of  "  my  own  hired  house"  more  pleasant  still. 

In  one  of  the  above  letters,  is  the  first  notice  we  have 
seen  of  his  catechism.  We  shall  see  more  hereafter,  as 
it  cost  him  much  time  and  labor  and  consultation.  For 
a  long  while,  it  was  one  of  the  engrossing  topics  of  his 
thoughts  and  conversation.  That  part  of  the  preceding 
letter  in  which  he  speaks  of  this  work,  is  a  sample  of 
what  I  frequently  heard  while  residing  in  his  family.  He 
was  very  apt  to  mention  his  chief  plan  of  the  day,  to  his 
visitors;  and  to  seek  their  aid  in  its  accomplishment;  and 
to  show  them  how  they  might  also  gain  much  advantage 
to  themselves,  while  affording  such  aid  to  him.  He  felt 
so  deep  an  interest  in  his  projects,  and  their  value  so  in- 
creased in  his  hands,  that  he  might  well  be  excused   for 


STYLE,    ETC.  155 

supposing  they  might  greatly  interest  and  benefit  others. 
Had  he  not  felt  some  portion  of  this  magnifying  enthu- 
siasm, probably  he  would  neither  have  executed  nor 
even  formed  one  half  of  the  plans  which  he  did. 

The  following  I  insert,  chiefly  on  account  of  the  remarks 
it  contains  on  a  course  of  college  studies.  I  had  already 
spent  a  month  or  two  with  him  in  preparatory  studies. 

Beverly,  July  8,  180G. 

Dear  Brother  It. — To  acquire  a  good  style  is  the 
work  of  years.  If  you  intend  to  lead  a  literary  life,  you 
must  make  composition  one  of  your  leading  studies  for  a 
number  of  years.  You  must,  in  due  time,  study  the  best 
authors  upon  rhetoric  and  criticism,  and  read  with  great 
attention  the  most  excellent  models  of  style.  But  this 
alone  will  never  make  you  a  good  writer.  You  must 
learn  to  think,  to  think  closely,  to  think  correctly  and 
orderly.  You  must  also  have  a  copious  fund  of  ideas. 
Though  what  I  have  mentioned  is  the  work  of  years, 
yet  all  this  may  be,  and  still  you  may  write  a  very  hard, 
stiff,  clumsy,  dry  and  tedious  style.  You  must  add  prac- 
tice, much  practice,  and  that  the  most  attentive  and 
persevering. 

Perhaps  no  good  quality  of  style  can  be  acquired  with- 
out much  practice.  But  that  to  which  it  seems  most  es- 
sential, is  ease.  This  no  doubt  is  the  second  quality  of 
a  good  style,  perspicuity  being  the  first.  Young  compos- 
uists  are  exceedingly  prone  to  affect  a  bombastic  stiffness 
of  style,  extremely  disgustful  to  persons  of  real  taste,  and 
yet  think  it  a  great  excellence.  I  must,  therefore,  ear- 
nestly advise  you  to  make  writing  composition,  a  weekly 
exercise.  If  you  have  resolution  to  avoid  carelessness, 
you  will  find  letter  writing  one  of  the  best  exercises  to 
improve  your  style,  particularly  in  ease.  You  may  write 
in  Latin  if  you  please.  But  forever  avoid,  with  abhor- 
rence, the  ostentatious,  pedantic,  ridiculous,  practice  of 
mixing  Latin  and  English,  either  in  conversation  or 
writing.  I  wish  you  to  inform  me  particularly  of  your 
progress,  and  satisfaction,  and  difficulties  in  your  studies. 
Write  me  your  opinion  upon  the  advantages  of  knowl- 
edge in  general,  and  also  the  advantages  of  knowing  the 
several  branches  of  science  and  literature  in  particular  : 


156  SECRET    PRAYER,    ETC. 

as  reading,  writing,  spelling,  arithmetic,  geometry,  phi- 
losophy, astronomy,  grammar,  geography,  chronology, 
history,  music,  theology,  etc.  etc.  Write  me  your  opin- 
ion upon  the  comparative  advantages  of  a  public  and  a 
private  education.  Send  me  all  the  important  questions 
you  can  think  of  upon  various  subjects.  Keep  a  book 
handy  and  write  them  down  as  they  occur  from  day  to 
day. 

But  my  brother,  these  things  are  of  secondary  import- 
ance. Remember,  eternity  is  at  hand  and  the  reckoning 
day  approaches.     The  Lord  be  with  you. 

A  different  topic  now  claims  a  passing  notice. 

Beverhj,  July  1G;  1806. 

Honored  Father, — I  trust  you  will  rejoice  to  learn 
that  your  posterity  has  lately  increased.  Who  could  have 
thought,  that  so  small  a  daughter  could  have  yielded  us 
so  much  joy.  She  is  now  two  days  old  ;  and  we  call  her 
Nancy.  Mrs.  E.  desires  love  to  her  Holies  friends.  May 
we  be  enabled  suitably  to  notice  the  hand  of  God,  and 
from  day  to  day  to  give  back  the  endearing  gift  to  the 
all-bounteous  Giver. 

May  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with  you. 

I  need  not  suggest  to  the  reader,  that  this  child  was 
named  in  honor  of  the  endeared  but  deceased  friend  of 
both  the  parents.  She  still  survives  as  the  only  child  of 
her  mother. 

Beverhj,  Sept.  20,  180G. 

My  dear  Wife, — I  have  become  or  rather  have  al- 
ways been  most  shamefully  cold  and  and  negligent  with 
regard  to  secret  prayer.  I  have  just  been  attempting  to 
confess  my  sins  of  this  kind  to  God,  to  implore  forgive- 
ness, and  to  resolve  that  I  will  reform — that  I  will  pray 
more  frequently,  more  fervently,  and  more  particularly, 
especially  for  my  dear  wife  and  child,  for  my  church  and 
people,  for  my  friends  and  enemies,  and  for  Zion  at  large. 
But  having  so  often  experienced  the  exceeding  deceittul- 
ness  of  my  heart,  having  broken  so  many  resolutions,  I 
fear,  I  tremble,  lest  I  should  also  break  this.  I  therefore 
take  this  method  of  addressing  you  upon  the  subject, 
hoping  that  it  may  prove  a  means  to  preserve   in  me   a 


COLLEGE    STUDIES.  157 

sense,  a  lively  sense  of  the  great  duty  of  secret  prayer. 
I  resolve  to  devote  as  much  of  next  Monday  as  possible 
to  fasting,  humiliation  and  prayer,  upon  this  subject. 
When  I  become  negligent  and  cold,  let  this  letter  testify 
against  me.  My  sister,  my  spouse,  need  I  ask  you  to  pray 
for  your  poor,  unworthy  husband  ?  I  am  many  times 
ready  to  conclude,  that  having  preached  to  others,  I 
myself  shall  be  a  castaway.  God  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner. 

0  that  we  may  be  enabled  to  walk  together  in  some 
measure  agreeably  to  our  profession  and  the  honorable 
and  important  station  which  we  visibly  hold  in  the  Re- 
deemer's family. 

Let  this  day  be  to  me  for  the  beginning  of  days. 
Henceforth  let  me  live  entirely  to  God — and  the  glory 
shall   be  his  through   eternity.     Amen. 

1  have  convincing  reason  to  believe,  it  was  not  in  vain 
that  my  brother  thus  resolved  and  strove  to  quicken  his 
diligence  in  this  great  duty. — The  following  is  of  the 
same  cast  as  the  one  from  which  I  recently  quoted  re- 
specting college  studies. 

Beverly,  Feb.  9,  1307. 

Dear  Brother  R. — When  do  you  think  of  entering 
college,  and  where  ?  Are  you  careful  to  derive  all  possi- 
ble advantages  from  your  studies,  as  you  proceed ;  or  are 
you  intent  principally  upon  qualifying  yourself  to  enter 
college  ?  What  are  the  principal  advantages  of  studying 
Latin  and  Greek  ;  and  of  knowing  them  after  you  have 
studied  them  ?  Or  is  there  no  advantage  in  studying  these 
languages,  separate  from  that  of  knowing  them?  What 
are  the  comparative  excellences  of  English,  Latin,  and 
Greek  ?  What  advantages  may  result  from  acquiring  an 
accurate  acquaintance  with  the  pronunciation  of  Latin 
and  Greek?  These  questions  I  wish  you  to  answer  in 
writing,  as  soon  as  convenient.  I  have  spent  much  time 
almost  in  vain,  in  attending  to  things  of  little  or  no  im- 
portance. The  better  you  know  the  advantage  of  any 
study,  the  more  may  you  attain  that  advantage  while  pur- 
suing it  and  after  it  is  completed. 

I  fear  your  studies  will  lead  your  thoughts  from  God. 
This  is  often  the  case.     Endeavor  to  realize,  that  there  is 
one  thing  infinitely  more  important  than  a   knowledge  of 
14 


158  COLLEGES. 

language,  or  a  college  education.     O  my  brother,  there 
is  no  good  excuse  for  impenitence. 

TO    THE    SAME. 

Beverly,  Jane  1,  1807. 

Dear  and  much  remembered  Brother, — You  may 
be  well  fitted  to  enter  any  college  in  New  England,  ex- 
cept Cambridge,  next  autumn.  I  hope  you  will  go  to 
New  Haven.  You  will  not  only  gain  a  year,  but  also  a 
better  education  and  find  much  more  satisfaction  in  your 
studies.  If  you  go  to  Cambridge,  you  will  find  almost 
every  lesson  a  task  not  very  "  delightful."  I  found  much 
more  satisfaction  in  studying  Latin  and  Greek  at  the 
academy,  than  in  getting  my  college  exercises.  I  imagine 
it  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  unhappy  arrangement  of 
studies  at  Cambridge.  For  my  college  studies  were  in 
their  nature,  much  more  interesting.  Besides,  I  believe 
the  bad  arrangement  of  studies  at  Cambridge,  being  not 
only  unpleasing,  but  also  arduous  to  the  student,  had  an 
unfavorable  influence  upon  my  health.  Perhaps  you  re- 
collect, my  last  year  at  college  was  almost  wholly  lost  for 
want  of  health.  Probably  my  constitution  received  an  in- 
jury that  never  will  be  repaired  on  earth.  It  is  exceed- 
ingly straining,  distressing,  and  distracting  to  apply  vigor- 
ously to  ten  studies,  almost  or  entirely  new,  in  the  course 
of  a  single  month.  Those  who  study  diligently  at  Cam- 
bridge, often  impair,  and  sometimes  destroy,  their  health. 
I  believe  sickness  and  death  arc  more  frequent  among 
Cambridge  students  than  any  other  in  New  England,  in 
proportion  to  their  respective  numbers.  And  here  I  must 
digress  to  tell  you,  that  I  am  exceedingly  concerned  for 
your  health.  It  is  a  subject  of  which  you  cannot  judge 
correctly  from  your  feelings.  You  may  feel  vigorous  and 
active,  and  study  with  delight  a  few  years,  and  destroy 
your  health  before  you  mistrust  that  it  is  impaired.  1 
was  advised  not  to  study  in  vacations.  I  almost  despised 
the  advice  ;  and  now  am  left  to  despise  and  lament  my 
presumptuous  folly.  I  feel  like  a  poor,  weakly  old  man, 
though  still  in  my  youth.  I  know  but  very  little,  a  pre- 
cious little,  and  fear  I  shall  never  know  much  more.  O 
my  brother,  learn  wisdom  from  my  folly.  Exercise  an 
hour  every  day  except  the   Sabbath.      Let  your  exercise 


COLLEGE    LIFE.  159 

be  as  various  and  profitable  as  possible.  Some  kinds  of 
exercise  may  be  better  than  others  ;  but  no  one  can  be  so 
good  as  many.  Duly  to  exercise  all  the  muscles,  must 
tend  to  give  the;  greatest  firmness  to  the  whole  animal 
system;  and  consequently  to  the  mind,  as  far  as  it  de- 
pends upon  bodily  firmness.  Do  not  forsake  your  good 
friends  the  scythe,  the  rake,  the  fork,  the  axe,  the  plough, 
the  hoe,  the  sickle,  etc.,  those  great  benefactors  of  the 
world,  from  whose  instrumentality  we  receive  our  daily 
bread.  I  also  advise  you  to  cultivate  some  acquaintance 
with  the  saw  and  beetle.  Alas,  how  many  dollars  I  have 
paid  others  for  doing  that,  which  it  would  have  been 
twice  as  many  dollars  benefit  to  me  to  have  done  myself. 
If  you  go  to  New  Haven,  get  acquainted  with  some  far- 
mer in  the  neighborhood,  and  show  him  that  you  have 
some  "  perfections  that  are  placed  in  bones  and  nerves;" 
though  your  "  soul  is  bent  on  higher  views."  Habituate 
yourself  to  wetting  your  feet,  if  you  can  begin  it  without 
injury.  Do  not  have  your  room  very  warm  nor  close. 
Wear  but  Utile  clothes,  except  when  you  go  out  in  very 
cold  weather.  Avoid  soft  beds  and  every  other  effeminat- 
ing luxury.  If  you  go  into  the  water  for  bathing,  observe 
these  rules.  Never  go  in  oftener  than  once  a  week  ;  nor 
when  you  are  weak  and  weary  ;  nor  stay  in  more  than 
ten  minutes  at  a  time. 

To  return  to  my  subject.  Though  the  philosophical 
apparatus  at  Cambridge,  is  by  far  the  best,  yet  New 
Haven  scholars  are  the  best  philosophers.  The  reason  is, 
that  the  scholars  at  New  Haven  are  allowed  to  use  the 
instruments  themselves ;  but  not  at  Cambridge.  I  have 
conversed  with  many  upon  the  subject,  and  never  found 
but  one  who  would  advocate  the  arrangement  of  studies 
at  Cambridge.  It  is  probable  W.  Eaton  will  go  to  Wil- 
liams College,  and  perhaps  Mr.  Ellingwood  also.  The 
arrangement  of  studies  there,  is  very  similar  to  that  of 
New  Haven.  If  my  father  is  unwilling  you  should  go  to 
New  Haven,  perhaps  you  will  conclude  to  go  to  Williams- 
town. 

Though  the  pronunciation  of  a  dead  language  is  not 
of  much  use,  in  itself  considered,  yet  it  may  be  useful 
to  enable  us  correctly  to  articulate  our  own.  In  this  par- 
ticular, I  fear  you  will  fail.     I  must  earnestly  recommend 


160  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

considerable  attention  to  reading  and  speaking.  In  read- 
ing Latin  and  Greek,  pay  attention  to  emphasis,  cadence, 
etc.  Think  not  that  this  is  useless,  while  it  tends  to  fix 
a  habit  of  great  importance. 

We  wish  exceedingly  to  see  you  at  Beverly.  After 
close  application  a  few  weeks,  you  may  make  us  a  visit 
of  a  few  days,  without  losing  any  time.  Your  meditations 
by  the  way  may  be  as  useful  as  what  you  could  study  in 
the  same  time.  It  is  thinking,  close  thinking,  that  makes 
the  scholar.  All  the  books,  all  the  colleges,  all  the  in- 
struction in  the  world,  can  never  make  a  scholar,  without 
his  thinking  for  himself.  Thinking  without  reading,  is  a 
thousand  times  better  than  reading  without  thinking. 
There  are  many  numheads  and  profound  ignoramuses 
that  have  been  reading  all  their  days  ;  and  many  sensible, 
understanding  men  who  never  read  half  a  dozen  books 
in  all  their  lives.  Reading  without  thinking,  is  like  eating 
without  digestion.  Instead  of  nourishing  the  system,  it 
rather  weakens  it;  and  when  thrown  off  the  stomach,  it 
is  nauseous  and  loathsome.  Still,  however,  reading  may 
be  useful. 

While  you  are  laboring  for  learning,  do  not  forget  the 
one  thing  needful.  O  my  brother,  what  shall  it  profit  you 
to  gain  all  the  treasures  of  human  literature  and  science, 
and  lose  your  own  soul?  Of  what  avail  to  Pharoah,  was  all 
the  wisdom  of  Egypt,  when  overwhelmed  in  the  Red  Sea? 
If  you  die  in  your  sins,  what  can  avail  all  the  instruc- 
tions and  all  the  honors  a  college  can  give  ?  They  can- 
not shield  you  from  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb,  when  he  shall 
be  revealed  from  heaven  with  his  mighty  angels  in  flam- 
ing fire,  to  take  vengeance  on  them  that  know  not  God, 
and  obey  not  the  gospel. 

Mrs.  Emerson  unites  with  me  in  sending  love.  Let  us 
hear  from  you  as  often  and  as  much  as  may  be  con- 
venient ;  and  let  us  know  something  of  your  views  and 
feelings  respecting  religion. 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  say,  that  my  brother  had  also  other 
reasons  which  he  had  before  stated  verbally,  for  wishing 
me  to  go  to  Yale  instead  of  Harvard  College.  He  regard- 
ed the  then  recent  change  in  the  latter  college,  respecting 
religious  opinions,    as  most   Calvinists  now    view    it — a 


COLLEGE    LIFE.  161 

bar  to  sending  their  sons  and  relations  there.*  Most 
devoutly  have  I  since  desired  to  give  thanks  for  the  kind 
interposition  of  such  a  brother,  at  such  a  time.  The 
full  reason  of  this  effusion  of  my  heart,  I  must  here  no 
further  explain,  than  by  barely  saying,  that  the  rich 
means  of  grace  enjoyed  at  New  Haven,  met,  and  by  the 
divine  blessing,  controlled  a  crisis  in  my  life  over  which 
I  hope  forever  to  rejoice. 

The  '"  hard  bed"  recommended  to  me,  he  had  himself 
long  tried,  having  slept  on  straw  during  the  latter  part  of 
his  residence  at  Cambridge,  with  sensible  benefit  to  his 
health.  The  directions  for  exercise  and  for  wetting  the 
feet,  I  endeavored  to  follow  through  college ;  and  have 
never  enjoyed  such  firm  and  uninterrupted  health.  Per- 
haps it  was  owing  to  the  latter  direction,  that  I  scarcely 
had  a  cold  during  the  whole  four  years.  Still,  it  may 
not  be  a  safe  direction  for  all ;  nor  am  I  sure  that  its  ulti- 
mate effects  have  not  been  injurious  in  impairing  my  sys- 
tem, though  1  believe  the  continual  exposure  then  shield- 
ed me  from  the  effects  of  sudden  changes.  I  dropped  the 
practice   immediately  on  leaving  college. 

Beverly,  Nov.  12,  1807. 

Dear  Brother, — I  rejoice  to  learn  that  you  have  be- 
come a  member  of  the  best  college  in  America.  This  in- 
formation was  peculiarly  pleasing,  as  coming  from  your 
pen.     Two  days  ago,  I  received  yours  of  Nov.  4. 

Always  have  your  English  dictionary  at  your  elbow  when 
you  write,  and  be  sure  that  you  know  the  meaning  and  or- 
thography of  every  word  you  write.  Never  indulge  your- 
self in  careless,  nor,  unless  absolutely  necessary,  in  hasty 
writing  ;  no,  not  even  if  you  expect  to  burn  your  compo- 
sition the  next  moment.  Write  a  letter,  or  piece  of  com- 
position, as  long  as  your  last  letter  to  me,  every  week.  It 
may  be  useful  for  you  to  write  your  compositions  or  letters 
twice.  Write  the  first  copy  as  fairly  and  correctly  as  pos- 
sible.    In  the  course  of  three  or  four  days,  read  it  over 

*  Let  none  here  think  niv  brother  ungrateful  towards  a  college  whose 
honors  he  had  worn.  It  was  in  other  days,  that  they  were  conferred. 
And  if  it  were  not  so,  still,  what  is  the  gratitude  to  a  college,  that  can  com- 
pel us  to  send  our  relatives  to  its  walls  in  prejudice  to  their  highest  wel- 
fare ?  Instead  of  hostility  to  that  venerable  institution,  for  which  he  prayed 
as  long  as  he  lived,  it  was  simply  a  matter  of  sacred  and  indispensable 
religious  principle. 

14* 


162  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

three  or  four  times  with  the  closest  attention,  and  make  as 
many  corrections  and  improvements  as  possible.  Then 
transcribe  it  with  as  much  care  as  though  it  were  for  the 
press.  Such  exercises  will  have  a  tendency  to  make  you 
not  only  a  good  writer,  but  an  accurate  scholar.  Be  pa- 
tient, be  patient,  my  brother ;  you  must  not  expect  to  be- 
come every  thing  you  wish  in  a  day,  a  month,  nor  a  year. 
Never  spend  a  moment's  time,  merely  to  gain  the  reputa- 
tion of  a  great  reader.  Students,  who  are  industrious, 
generally  read  four  times  as  much  at  college  as  they 
should.  It  is  thinking,  thinking  intensely,  clearly,  sys- 
tematically, and  perseveringly,  that  makes  the  scholar.  It 
is  useful  to  have  a  large  number  of  books  to  consult  occa- 
sionally ;  but  very  few  to  read  wholly.  Brown's  Diction- 
ary of  the  Bible,  Lempriere's  Classical  Dictionary,  Jones's 
Biographical  Dictionary,  Johnson's  English  Dictionary, 
and  some  good  Gazetteer,  you  ought  to  have  constantly 
by  you.  Had  I  owned  these  books  during  my  col- 
legiate course,  I  verily  believe  that  my  knowledge  would 
now  be  worth  more  than  two  hundred  dollars  more  than  it 
is  ;  considering  my  knowledge  now  to  be  worth  what  it 
cost.  If  you  turn  your  thoughts  upon  almost  any  subject, 
important  questions  will  arise  in  your  mind.  In  order  to 
gain  satisfactory  answers  to  such  questions,  it  is  very  de- 
sirable to  have  good  books,  good  friends,  good  instructors, 
that  you  may  easily  consult.  Here,  without  thinking  of 
it,  I  have  given  you  a  hint  for  the  choice  of  your  compan- 
ions. Good  characters,  sober-minded,  congenial  souls, 
nearly  your  equals  in  age  and  information,  who  will  de- 
light to  receive  and  communicate  instruction,  will  proba- 
bly prove  your  most  useful,  most  agreeable  companions. 
Such  should  be  your  chum.  One,  who  does  not  nearly 
answer  this  description,  will  be  worse  than  none,  as  it  re- 
spects the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  and  the  improvement 
of  the  mind.  A  superior,  however,  is  much  worse  than 
an  inferior,  as  it  respects  mental  improvement.  This  sen- 
timent may  appear  strange.  Well,  make  all  the  objections 
to  it  in  your  power,  and  I  will  endeavor  to  defend  it  in 
another  letter.  You  may,  however,  find  it  very  useful  to 
converse  frequently  with  those  who  are  greatly  your  supe- 
riors. Benevolence  requires  that  you  should  be  willing  to 
impart  instruction  to  inferiors,  who  wish  to  learn.  This 
I  have  often  found  a  most  delightful  task,  and   nearly  as 


PAROCHIAL      DUTIES.  163 

profitable  to  myself,  as  the  lectures  of  my  instructors. 
But  with  "  skulls  that  cannot  teach,  and  will  not  learn," 
have  nothing  to  do.  They  are  a  disgrace  to  college,  and 
ought  to  be  treated  with  contempt.  Your  intimates  should 
be  few,  and  selected  with  great  caution.  Never  urge  a 
friendship,  which  does  not  appear  to  be  mutually  agree- 
able. 

The  following,  to  his  youngest  brother,  is  in  the  same 
spirit  of  faithfulness  and  love,  though  not  on  precisely  the 
same  point.  Perhaps  God  may  here  make  it  a  word  in 
season  to  some  heart. 

Beverly,  Dec.  9,  1807. 

My  dearly  beloved  brother  W. — I  owe  you  much 
for  your  kind  services,  while  you  lived  with  me,  besides 
what  I  owe  for  your  letters.  But  you  know  I  was  pretty 
much  engaged  in  performing  the  duties  of  my  high  calling, 
when  you  lived  with  me.  And  my  ministerial  duties  seem 
to  grow  more  and  more  urgent,  so  that  I  can  find  but  very 
little  time  to  write  to  my  friends.  It  would  be  exceeding- 
ly pleasing  to  me,  if  I  could  visit  my  Holies  kindred  and 
friends  this  winter  with  my  wife  and  child.  But  this  sat- 
isfaction I  dare  not  promise  myself.  O  my  brother,  you 
little  know,  you  little  think,  how  weighty,  how  important 
are  the  duties  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel.  Precious,  im- 
mortal souls  are  committed  to  my  care.  For  them  I  am 
bound  by  the  most  solemn  obligations  to  watch,  to  pray, 
and  to  labor.  Besides  many  other  ministerial  works,  I 
generally  feel  it  duty  to  preach  to  my  people  four  times  in 
a  week.  "  Wo  is  me,  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel."  I 
must  be  "  instant  in  season  and  out  of  season,"  on  Sabbath 
days  and  on  other  days.  I  must  teach  my  people  "  pub- 
licly and  from  house  to  house."  And  if  I  would  be  as  "  a 
scribe  well  instructed,  so  as  to  bring  forth  from  my  treas- 
ure things  new  and  old,"  I  must  give  myself  to  reading, 
meditation,  and  prayer.  I  have  many  visits  to  make. 
When  my  friends  call  to  see  me,  I  am  glad  to  see  them, 
and  duty  requires  me  to  attend  to  them.  I  am  accounta- 
ble to  my  Judge  for  the  manner  in  which  I  improve  my 
means  and  opportunities  of  doing  good.  Do  you  think  I 
can  find  much  time  to  write  to  my  friends?  I  have  many 
friends,  who  are  exceedingly  dear  to  me.     But  much  as  1 


164  REPENTANCE    URGED. 

love  them,  I  scarcely  ever  take  my  pen  to  write  a  line 
to  any  of  them,  unless  I  have  something  in  particular  to 
communicate.  And,  my  brother,  you  are  accountable  as 
well  as  I.  You  have  an  all-seeing,  almighty  Judge,  as 
well  as  I.  You  must  appear  at  Immanuel's  bar,  at  the 
great  day,  as  well  as  I.  You  must  give  an  account  of 
your  deeds  done  in  the  body,  as  well  as  I.  And  now  let 
me  ask,  are  you  prepared!  The  summons  of  death  must 
soon  be  sounded  in  your  ears.  Your  naked  soul  must 
appear  in  the  immediate  presence  of  the  High  and  Holy 
and  Lofty  One,  who  inhabiteth  eternity.  O  my  brother, 
are  you  prepared  to  meet  your  God  ?  What  do  you 
think  he  would  say  to  you,  and  those  around  you? 
Would  it  be,  Come  ye  blessed  ;  or,  Depart  ye  cursed  ? 
Should  you  go  away  into  everlasting  punishment,  or  into 
life  eternal?  Alas,  my  brother,  you  may  be  in  hell  tor- 
ment before  this  letter  reaches  you.  If  you  are  not,  what 
reason  will  you  have  to  praise  the  Lord  for  his  long  suffer- 
ing and  tender  compassion.  Do  you  pray  to  God  in  se- 
cret every  day  ?  Where  are  the  convictions,  which  a  few 
years  ago  troubled  your  mind  ?  Are  they  all  gone  ?  Are 
you  again  sunk  down  in  stupidity?  Can  you  now  "cast 
off  fear  and  restrain  prayer  before  God  ?"  Have  you  no 
fear  of  death,  of  judgment,  of  hell?  Will  you  not  lift  up 
one  sincere  prayer  to  God  to  deliver  you  from  that  place 
of  torment.  The  natural  kindness  of  your  disposition 
and  sweetness  of  your  temper,  will  not  save  you  from  hell, 
without  an  interest  in  Christ.  And  if  you  go  to  that 
place  of  torment,  you  will  neither  carry  nor  find  any 
kindness  of  disposition,  nor  sweetness  of  temper.  No, 
the  inhabitants  of  those  dreary  mansions,  are  all  hateful 
and  hating  one  another  with  perfect  hatred.  Do  not 
put  off  repentance.  You  will  never  have  a  more  conven- 
ient season.  Behold,  now  is  the  accepted  time. — Mrs. 
Emerson  continues  quite  unwell  with  a  cold.  She  unites 
in  sending  love  to  you  and  all  our  Holies  friends. 

The  following,  found  among  his  papers,  comes  next  in 
place,  according  to  its  date.  As  it  is  from  his  own  pen, 
I  prefer  to  publish  it  all  together  as  I  find  it,  instead  of 
separating  the  facts  and  stating  them  in  my  own  language 
amid  other  matters  of  the  same  dates.  The  morning 
school  here  briefly  mentioned,  the  reader  will  perceive  to 


PAROCHIAL    LABORS.  165 

be  the  same  that  I  have  before  noticed  more  fully,  from 
my  own  recollection.  When  1  wrote  that  notice,  I  was 
not  aware  of  his  alluding  to  the  fact  in  any  of  his  papers. 
Unless  I  permit  my  brother  to  speak  pretty  freely  about 
his  own  "plans,"  he  will  not  stand  before  the  reader  in 
his  true  character. 

Beverly]  Dec.  20,  1807. 

"  Since  my  settlement  in  the  ministry,  I  have  spent 
much  time  in  concerting  and  executing  plans  for  gaining 
and  communicating  knowledge.  In  this  way,  I  hope,  I 
have  been  instrumental  of  doing  considerable  good,  besides 
gaining  some  skill  in  the  important  business  of  planning. 
Some  of  my  plans,  indeed,  have  failed,  and  I  hope  to  be 
more  cautious  in  future  ;  especially  not  to  divulge  any 
more  of  my  plan  than  is  absolutely  necessary  for  its  exe- 
cution. In  this  case,  if  any  plan  should  fail,  I  shall  not 
be  so  likely  to  incur  the  charge  of  instability.  To  assist 
me  in  forming  plans  in  future,  it  may  be  useful  to  take  a 
brief  review  of  those  already  formed." 

"Soon  after  I  was  settled,  I  formed  the  plan  of  visit- 
ing every  family  in  the  parish  and  praying  with  each.  I 
was  hindered  from  fully  executing  this  by  numerous  eve- 
ning meetings,  by  want  of  health,  labor  of  sabbath  pre- 
parations, sickness,  and  death  of  my  wife.  But,  I  hope, 
it  proved  in  a  good  degree  beneficial." 

"  Soon  after  my  ordination,  I  formed  the  plan  of  a 
Calvinistic  Social  Library,  which  I  was  soon  enabled  to 
execute,  and  which  has  proved  exceedingly  beneficial." 

"  The  next  spring,  1804,  I  began  to  catechize  the 
children  of  my  charge,  having  furnished  most  of  them 
with  the  Assembly's  Catechism.  It  was  my  usual  prac- 
tice to  meet  them,  as  many  as  would  attend,  at  the  meet- 
ing-house, every  week,  and  attend  to  the  males  and  fe- 
males, in  separate  classes,  spending  about  an  hour  with 
each  class.  They  generally  attended  to  five  of  the  an- 
swers at  a  time  ;  and  in  this  way  went  through  the  Cate- 
chism." 

"  Soon  after  the  death  of  my  wife,  1804,  I  formed  the 
plan  of  a  course  of  catechetical  lectures  for  my  young 
people.  My  design  was,  to  ask  them  a  number  of  ques- 
tions in  relation  to  one  of  the  answers  in  the  Catechism, 
at  each  lecture,  and  interspersing  remarks,  as  I  proceed- 
ed ;  and  then   to  lecture   thern   upon  the    subject.     But 


106  PLANS. 

this  was  an  exercise  rather  too  difficult  for  them ;  and 
after  one  or  two  lectures,  1  changed  the  course  into  lec- 
ures  upon  the  Catechism.  Of  these,  1  delivered  nearly 
forty,  and  advanced  nearly  as  far  as  to  the  commandments. 
These  I  found  very  edifying  to  myself,  and,  as  I  trust, 
profitable  to  many  others.  Though  I  thought  proper  to 
discontinue  this  course,  in  order  to  give  a  number  of  lec- 
tures upon  sacred  history,  yet  I  shall  probably  resume 
and  complete  the  course." 

"  Early  in  the  spring  of  1806,  I  opened  a  morning 
school  for  my  young  people,  to  teach  them  to  read  and 
understand  the  scriptures.  In  the  first  place,  I  took 
those  that  were  above  seventeen,  afterwards  those  above 
thirteen  years^of  age.  This  school  I  continued  through 
the  summer,  with  great  apparent  success.  By  means  of 
teaching  this  school,  I  greatly  improved  my  plan  of  a 
reference  catechism." 

"  In  the  beginning  of  winter  in  1804,  I  formed  the 
plan  of  giving  bibles  to  the  children  of  the  parish  for  re- 
peating the  answers  of  the  Catechism.  This  I  consider 
one  of  the  best  of  all  my  plans.  About  seventy  excellent 
bibles  have  been  given  to  the  children  since  that  time, 
and  it  is  still  operating  very  favorably." 

"  I  have  lately  revived  a  kind  of  church  conference 
which  I  began  a  few  years  ago.  I  meet  about  twelve  or 
fifteen  church  members  at  a  time,  sing,  pray,  converse, 
question  every  one,  and  they  me,  if  they  please  ; — meet- 
ing with  different  members  at  different  times  and  places. 
This  I  find  exceedingly  edifying  and  comforting  to  my- 
self; and  apparently  to  others.  My  design  is  to  converse 
with  all  the  church  in  this  way  twice  a  year." 

"  My  plans  for  my  own  improvement,  have  been  nu- 
merous— more  than  I  can  recollect.  I  think  I  can  now 
study  to  much  more  advantage  than  T  could  three,  two, 
or  one  year  ago.  My  best  plans  relating  immediately  to 
myself,  are,  that  of  fixing  my  bible  with  a  piece  of  parch- 
ment against  every  fifth  chapter,  done  about  a  year  ago; — 
my  present  plan  of  studying  the  bible,  and  present  plan 
of  preaching,  both  adopted  about  three  months  ago.  My 
plan  of  studying  the  scripture,  is,  to  read  it  in  course  ;  to 
understand  all  that  I  can  easily  understand  by  attending 
closely  to  the  connexion  and  consulting  Scott ;  to  commit 
to  memory  such  passages  as  it  appears  greatly  desirable 


PLANS.  167 

to  have  in  mind  ;  and  to  remember,  in  what  chapters  the 
most  striking  and  important  passages  and  ideas  are  con- 
tained. My  present  method  of  preaching,  is,  to  select  my 
subject  and  text  with  great  care;  to  write  my  imperfect 
plan,  putting  down  all  the  leading,  important  ideas  upon 
the  subject,  without  much  regard  to  the  order  ;  to  write 
my  more  perfect  plan,  making  it  in  all  respects  as  per- 
fect as  possible ;  to  sketch  down  the  leading  ideas  under 
each  head,  and  write  at  large  those  parts  which  appear 
the  most  difficult  to  be  expressed,  and  fully  think  over 
the  rest;  to  take  off  my  little  plan,  consisting  of  figures, 
words,  and  parts  of  words,  representing  the  most  im- 
portant parts  of  the  discourse,  or  such  as  are  peculiarly 
difficult  to  be  remembered  ;  to  go  over  my  little  plan  once, 
twice,  or  thrice,  thinking  over  or  saying  over  all  the  ideas 
of  the  discourse ;  sometimes  to  commit  my  little  plan  to 
memory  and  preach  without  any  kind  of  note,  sometimes 
to  take  down  a  few  hints  upon  the  margin  of  my  bible, 
and  sometimes  to  use  my  little  plan-in  preaching,  accord- 
ing to  the  nature  of  the  subject  and  time  for  preparation." 

The  small  pieces  of  parchment  placed  on  the  leaves 
of  his  bible,  were  to  facilitate  the  process  of  turning  to 
such  texts  as  he  might  wish  to  read  in  his  study  of  the 
bible,  in  making  his  sermons,  or  in  preaching.  I  say,  in 
preaching;  for  in  his  cxtc?7ipore  sermons,  it  was  his  cus- 
tom to  have  his  small  bible  with  him,  and  to  read  from  it 
the  passages  he  introduced.  Such  was  his  dexterity  in 
this  use  of  his  bible,  and  such  his  familiarity  with  its 
pages,  that  he  was  rarely  much  impeded  in  his  discourse 
by  turning  to  the  passages.  I  may  also  remark,  that  he 
introduced  a  vastly  greater  proportion  of  scripture  into  his 
sermons,  than  is  common.  Sometimes,  perhaps,  the  pas- 
sages he  read  and  his  remarks  on  their  connexion,  were 
too  long. 

As  this  plan  of  marking  the  bible,  may  be  of  use  to 
others,  especially  in  Sabbath  schools  and  bible  classes,  I 
will  endeavor  to  make  it  intelligible.  The  parchment, 
glued  upon  the  first  leaf  of  each  book,  contained  the 
initial  letter  of  that  book  ;  the  next  parchment,  placed  a 
little  lower  on  the  page,  was  marked  with  the  figure  5; 
the  third,  lower  still,  and  marked,  10  ;  the  fourth,  15, 
etc.  ;  thus  indicating  the  chapters  on  their  respective  pa- 


163  PLANS. 

pers.  With  the  book  shut,  all  these  labels  were  at  once 
visible.  If,  then,  he  wished  to  turn  to  the  tenth  chapter 
of  Luke,  for  instance,  he  had  only  to  cast  his  eye  on  the 
initial,  L,  near  the  top  of  the  book,  and  to  run  it  along 
down  till  it  came  to  the  label  marked  10;  and  by  placing 
his  finger  on  that  parchment,  he  could  at  once  open  to 
the  place.  And  if  he  was  in  quest  of  the  twelfth  chap- 
ter, he  would  open  as  before,  and  perhaps  have  to  turn 
over  an  additional  leaf. — These  labels,  however,  were 
liable  to  be  removed  in  using ;  and  1  cannot  but  think  a 
plan  which  he  had  before  used,  to  be  on  the  whole  bet- 
ter, though  not  quite  so  expeditious.  It  consisted  in 
staining  with  ink  a  small  space,  perhaps  a  fourth  of  an 
inch,  on  the  edges  of  all  the  pages  in  a  book ;  and  then 
placing  the  initial  of  that  book  at  the  side  of  this  mark. 
These  were  visible,  with  the  book  closed ;  and  he  could 
easily  open  within  a  few  leaves  of  any  chapter  he  might 
wish.  The  stained  portion  of  the  next  book,  must  be  a 
little  lower  down  on  the  pages. — He  taught  many  of  his 
parishioners  and  friends  to  mark  their  bibles  in  the  same 
manner.  Dictionaries  and  other  books  of  reference  may 
be  marked  in  the  same  way,  with  great  advantage.  Com- 
mentaries are  so  bulky  as  to  admit  of  a  more  minute  no- 
tation of  the  chapters. 

He  had  now,  for  some  time,  been  devoting  himself, 
with  new  and  intense  ardor,  to  investigating  the  science 
of  preaching.  Here,  as  in  every  thing  else  which  en- 
gaged his  attention,  the  bent  of  his  mind  impelled  him 
to  seek  improvements.  Sighing  deeply  over  his  own  im- 
perfections in  this  work,  and  longing  intensely  for  the 
increase  of  the  usefulness  of  his  brethren,  he  betook  him- 
self to  this  enterprize,  with  all  the  energy  which  grief, 
shame,  hope,  and  love  could  inspire.  His  object,  like 
that  of  many  before  him,  was  the  increased  elhciency 
of  preaching.  He  soon  came  to  the  conclusion,  that  if 
preachers  were  to  return  more  nearly  to  the  manner  of 
Christ,  and  of  the  apostles  and  primitive  preachers  of 
Christianity,  they  might  hope  for  a  nearer  approach  to 
their  unparalleled  success.  He  wished,  especially  for  an 
increase  in  the  zeal,  and  the  simplicity  of  language  and 
manner,  employed  in  the  pulpit.  And  as  highly  condu- 
cive to  these  ends,  he  was  led  to  urge  the  primitive  mode 
of  extempore  preaching  ;  which  was  also  the  only  mode, 
at  first,  among  our  puritan  ancestors  in  New  England. 


REFORM    IN    PREACHING.  169 

On  this  subject,  his  views  may  be  more  clearly  seen 
by  the  following  letter  to  Rev.  Dr.  Mason  of  New  York, 
written  about  the  beginning  of  the  year  1808. 

"  Respected  Sir, — 1  hope  you  will  excuse  a  few  lines 
from  a  stranger,  upon  one  of  the  most  important  subjects 
that  can  engage  the  attention  of  a  gospel  minister.  I 
have  been  a  preacher  nearly  seven  years :  and  about  two- 
thirds  of  the  time,  a  settled  minister  in  this  place.  But 
with  shame  I  must  acknowledge,  that  until  within  about 
six  months,  I  never  attempted,  by  reasoning  and  experi- 
ment, to  ascertain  the  best  method  of  preparing  and  de- 
livering my  public  discourses.  I  adopted  and  contin- 
ued the  New  England  practice  of  writing  and  reading 
sermons,  "  asking  no  questions  for  conscience  sake." 
Though  for  want  of  health,  1  have  rarely  been  able  to 
write  the  whole  of  a  discourse,  yet,  until  lately,  I  have 
always  read  to  my  people  all  1  had  written. 

"  For  about  six  months  past,  I  have  not  read  a  single 
sentence  of  a  sermon  in  public.  I  began  with  a  resolu- 
tion to  preach  one  year  without  reading.  From  the  ex- 
periment, thus  far,  and  from  the  attention  that  I  have 
been  able  to  give  to  the  subject,  I  am  convinced  that  my 
present  method  of  preaching  is  much  better  than  my  for- 
mer. My  present  method  is  almost  wholly  extempora- 
neous, as  it  respects  words  and  expressions.  In  prepar- 
ing to  preach,  in  the  first  place,  I  write  a  plan  or  scheme 
of  my  sermon.  I  then  transcribe  the  plan,  making  as 
many  improvements  as  possible.  In  the  third  place,  I 
fill  up  my  plan  in  my  mind,  noting  down  the  leading  sen- 
timent and  scriptures  under  each  head.  After  this,  I 
sometimes  take  off  a  little  sketch  of  the  whole  upon  one 
side  of  one-sixteenth  of  a  sheet  of  paper,  which  1  pin  upon 
a  leaf  of  my  bible,  and  carry  into  the  pulpit. 

"By  no  means  would  I  suggest  these  things,  thinking  to 
instruct  you,  but  merely  to  give  you  opportunity  to  in- 
struct one  who  feels  himself  to  be  a  child  in  years,  in 
knowledge,  and  in  preaching.  My  present  method, 
though  certainly  superior  to  my  former,  is  undoubtedly 
susceptible  of  improvement.  Is  it  not  desirable,  infinite- 
ly desirable,  that  the  preachers  of  the  everlasting  gospel 
should  be  eloquent  men,  as  well  as  mighty  in  the  scrip- 
tures ?  Alas!  sir,  how  low,  how  very  low,  is  the  general 
15 


170 


EXTEMPORE    PREACHING. 


tone  of  New  England  preaching.  We  have  many  pious, 
zealous  ministers  ;  many  who  write  excellent  sermons. 
But  j)it/jjil  reading  is  the  death  of  eloquence.  I  wish  for 
instruction  upon  the  best  method  of  preaching  ;  and  I  wish 
to  instruct  my  brethren.  I  have  not  been  able  to  persuade 
one  of  them  to  try  my  present  experiment.  If  I  suggest 
the  expediency  of  leaving  off  the  reading  method,  a  lion 
is  in  the  icay.  O  for  some  Nimrod  to  attack  the  monster. 
I  wish  to  be  able  to  address  their  consciences  in  a  more 
forcible  manner.  Perhaps,  sir,  you  know  of  some  book 
which  I  might  find  highly  beneficial.  If  there  be  no 
good  treatise  upon  the  subject,  surely  there  ought  to  be. 
I  cannot  expect  you  to  take  up  the  subject  in  a  private 
letter  to  me.  My  object  in  writing,  is,  to  request  you  to 
recommend  some  book,  and  to  suggest  to  you  the  import- 
ance of  adopting  measures  to  enlighten  the  minds  of 
young  preachers  in  New-England  upon  this  interesting 
subject.  I  have  indeed  had  thoughts  of  addressing  a  cir- 
cular letter  to  my  brethren  upon  the  subject.  But  my 
voice  would  not  be  heard.  To  write  an  effectual  circu- 
lar upon  this  subject,  a  person  should  himself  be  at  once 
an  eminent  preacher  and  an  excellent  writer.  Could  not 
such  a  letter,  of  fifty  or  sixty  pages,  be  furnished  in  your 
city?  I  have  seen  a  letter,  published  in  London  and 
re-published  in  Boston  about  fifty  years  ago.  entitled 
"Reading  no  preaching."  But  that  could  not  be  cir- 
culated with  any  hope  of  advantage.  The  composition 
is  poor  ;  and  many  very  forcible  arguments  are  omitted. 
Besides,  it  would  answer  no  good  purpose  to  tell  New  Eng- 
land clergymen,  that  reading  is  not  preaching.  Even  if 
this  were  true,  they  could  not  bear  it  now. 

"  We  expect  great  things  from  our  Theological  Acad- 
emy. I  hope  that  Seminary  will  prove  instrumental  of 
reforming  our  mode  of  preaching  and  greatly  promot- 
ing the  cause  of  evangelical  truth." 

Connected  as  I  now  am  with  the  sacred  seminary  in 
this  place,  I  have  omitted  some  things  respecting  it  in 
the  above  letter.  Delicacy,  however,  will  not  forbid  me 
to  illustrate  an  important  trait  in  the  character  of  my 
brother,  by  mentioning,  a  little  more  definitely,  the  high 
hopes  he  then  cherished  of  the  ultimate  usefulness  of  this 
institution.     Speaking  to  me,  on  this  subject,  soon   after 


HICII    ANTICIPATIONS.  171 

its  foundation,  he   remarked  to  this  effect:  'Ardent  re- 
publican as  I  am,  and   enthusiastic  as   may  be   my  hopes 
from  the  declaration  of  our  national  independence,  yet  I 
anticipate  much  greater  good   from  the   establishment  of 
this  theological   seminary.'     This   strong  declaration,  of 
course,    excited    my    astonishment    at   that    time,    when 
probably  not  one,  except  himself,  among  the  most   zeal- 
ous friends  and  patrons  of  the   seminary,  had  begun  to 
anticipate  results  on  so  large  a  scale    as  what  we  already 
witness  here  and   in  other   kindred   seminaries  that  have 
risen  from  its  example,  and  in  public  movements  in   the 
cause  of  Christ  at  home  and  abroad,  that  have  grown  out 
of  this  prolific  measure.     The  trait  of  character  thus  ex- 
hibited, was  that  by  which   he  always  entered,  with  his 
wliole  soul,  into  the  plans  of  other  men,  as   well   as  his 
own,  for  the   salvation   of  the   world.     His   imagination, 
accompanied  by  a  vivid  faith,  ran  forward  on   such  sub- 
jects beyond  that  of  any  other   man  I  ever  knew.     One 
reason  for  this  strong  and   delightful  peculiarity,  was  his 
habit  of  looking  at  every  moral  cause,  in  its   connexion 
with  the    millennium.       Accordingly,    he    beheld    every 
movement  of  this  kind,  surrounded  with   a  glory  which 
cannot  be  visible  to  one  who  has  no   such  eye  of  faith. 
And  as  a  consequence   of  this,  while  others,  at   succes- 
sive periods,  have  expressed  their  astonishment,  in  view 
of  what  was  effected,  he  often  only  expressed   his  admi- 
ration, adding,   with   devout  gratitude,  that  he   had   ex- 
pected as  great  things,  and  admonishing  those  about  him, 
to  expect  still  greater. 

But  to  return  to  the  matter  of  reform  in  preaching.  He 
continued  his  mode,  as  above  described,  both  in  forming 
and  delivering  his  discourses,  till  the  close  of  his  minis- 
try. His  wish  to  exclude  all  reading  of  notes  from  the 
pulpit,  however,  gradually  subsided  ;  and  he  was  finally 
quite  willing  that  others  should  use  them,  when  found  to 
be,  not  a  trammel,  but  an  aid  ;  just  as  was  the  fact  when 
note  preaching  was  first  introduced  in  this  country  by  Mr. 
Warham,  the  first  minister  of  Windsor,  Ct.  The  good 
old  puritans  could  not  think  of  tolerating  a  practice  so 
formal,  till  they  saw  how  well  Mr.  W.  succeeded  in  the 
attempt.  A  similar  change  has  occurred  in  other  denom- 
inations ;  but  the  tendency  is  doubtless  always  to  a  dull 
delivery,  and  therefore  needs  the  frequent  application  of 


172  EXTEMPORE    PREACHING. 

a  corrective.  Extempore  preaching  has  now,  for  some 
years,  been  very  extensively  mingled  with  note  preaching 
in  New  England.  How  far  my  brother's  influence  was 
productive  of  the  happy  change,  I  will  not  take  upon 
myself  to  decide.  It  is  enough  to  remark,  that  he  urged 
this  reform  every  where,  and  on  all  suitable  occasions, 
for  many  years ;  that  he  conversed  much  with  officers  and 
students  of  colleges  and  of  other  seminaries  on  the  point ; 
and  that  he  persuaded  many  young  men  to  aim,  through 
their  whole  education,  at  acquiring  the  power  of  extem- 
pore speaking  * 

*  The  word  extempore,  I  have  used  here  and  elsewhere  both  as  an  ad- 
jective and  as  an  adverb,  as  I  suppose  such  use  to  be  now  sufficiently 
established. 


CHAPTER     VIII. 

SICKNESS    AND    DEATH    OF    HIS    SECOND    WIFE,    1808. 

Himself  very  feeble — Accompanies  her  to  Leicester — Re- 
turns— She  returns — They  again  go  to  L. — Letters  to 
Mr.  EUingicood —  To  his  people — Her  death. 

The  following,  to  his  wife,  will  be  a  fit  introduction  to  the 
mournful  theme  of  the  present  chapter.  It  was  written 
while  my  brother  was  absent  on  a  short  journey,  prob- 
ably for  his  health. 

Hoiks,  Apnl  21,  1803. 

On  Tuesday  or  Wednesday  next,  I  hope,  by  the  divine 
permission,  to  press  the  dear  hand  that  was  given  me  in 
marriage.  I  cannot  dissemble  to  the  inmate  of  my  heart. 
I  have  been  gloomy  for  several  days.  Never  before  did  I 
so  earnestly  desire  to  embrace  the  wife  of  my  bosom. 
How  poorly  have  I  improved  a  treasure,  of  which  I  was 
never  worthy — a  treasure  which  I  can  hardly  realize  to  be 
my  own.  My  friends  at  Franklin,  Framingham,  Holies, 
etc.,  have  appeared  sincerely  rejoiced  to  see  me.  Their 
attentions  are  truly  endearing.  My  health  and  strength 
seem  a  little  improved  ;  but  my  nerves  are  much  out  of 
order.  Do  not  tell  any,  that  I  am  nervous.  They  will 
only  laugh  at  me  or  despise  me  for  that,  which  is  as  real  a 
calamity  as  a  "  broken  tooth,  or  a  foot  out  of  joint."  I 
write  my  thoughts  just  as  they  occur.  I  cannot  summon 
resolution  to  attempt  to  maintain  any  connexion  in  my 
writino-.  Pity  your  husband,  whose  heart  is  constantly 
bleeding  with  pity  for  you  ;  pray  for  him,  who  frequently 
attempts  to  raise  a  few  broken  petitions  to  heaven  for  you 
and  our  lovely  babe. 

Love  to  all  who  dwell  under  our  roof. 

The  health  of  his  wife,  already  feeble,  continued  to 
decline  ;  so  that,  in  May,  she  dismissed  the  little  school 
15* 


174  LAST    SICKNESS    OF 

which  her  fondness  for  the  employment  had  led  her  to 
teach  during  most  of  the  spring.  She  soon  took  a  jour- 
ney to  visit  her  mother  and  sister  at  Leicester.  At  the 
date  of  the  following,  my  brother  had  just  left  her  at 
Leicester. 

Beverly,  June  11,  1808. 

Beloved  Companion, — I  arrived  at  Ward  with  rather 
a  heavy  heart.  My  aunt  was  abundant  in  expressing  her 
earnest  wish  to  receive  a  visit  from  you ;  and  said  she 
should  visit  you  at  Leicester,  if  she  found  you  were  not 
likely  to  visit  her.  I  told  her  she  might  expect  to  see  you 
at  Ward,  if  you  should  find  yourself  able.  A  consider- 
able part  of  the  way  to  Framingham,  I  felt  feeble,  fatigued, 
and  dejected.  I  arrived  at  father  Eaton's  about  sunset. 
Arrived  here  last  evening.  Charlotte  thinks  her  health  is 
rather  better  than  when  you  saw  her. 

With  regard  to  my  own  health,  I  feel  considerably  en- 
couraged. I  was  less  fatigued  last  night  than  any  preced- 
ing evening  this  week,  though  I  had  ridden  considerably 
farther.  To-day  I  feel  better  than  for  three  months  be- 
fore. My  principal  solicitude  is  respecting  your  health. 
It  is  my  earnest  wish  and  prayer  that  your  journey  and 
visit  to  Leicester,  may  prove  beneficial.  Dearly  beloved, 
spare  yourself  as  much  as  possible  ;  refrain  from  all  anxi- 
ety as  far  as  possible ;  let  your  heart  be  fixed  trusting  in 
the  Lord.  O  let  us  pray  without  ceasing  for  each  other, 
and  for  our  darling  babe.  I  wish  you  to  stay  as  long  as 
you  may  deem  it  necessary  lor  the  promotion  of  your 
health  and  happiness,  and  not  a  moment  longer. 

I  pray  that  Paulina  may  recover  and  glorify  God  on 
earth. 

These  are  the  beginnings  of  more  sorrows.  As  it  was 
his  lot  to  bear  them  with  a  christian  spirit,  so  let  it  be 
ours,  to  trace  the  mournful  steps  in  the  like  spirit,  and  in 
the  hope  of  meeting  the  suffering  followers  of  Christ  in 
the  peaceful  rest  of  their  final  home. 

From  Leicester,  Mrs.  E.  went  to  visit  her  sister  at  En- 
field, Ct.  On  her  return  to  L.,  she  gained  rapidly  for  a  few 
days  ;  and  was  then  taken  with  raising  blood  ;  which  so 
reduced  her,  that  at  the  time  of  her  return  to  Beverly, 
she  was  but  little  if  any  better  than  when  she  commenced 
the  journey,  six  weeks  before. 


HIS    WIFE.  175 

Her  friends  were  much  alarmed  at  her  appearance,  and 
some  of  them  anxious  that  she  should  try  the  effect  of  a 
longer  journey.  She  was  also  desirous  of  it ;  and  they  ac- 
cordingly started,  (Aug.  2*2,)  with  the  intention  of  visiting 
Vermont,  taking  Leicester  again  in  their  way.  She  was 
able  to  proceed  but  a  few  miles  in  a  day  ;  and  on  the 
third  day,  was  taken  much  worse.  A  physician  was 
called,  who  expressed  the  opinion,  that  she  was  already 
far  gone  in  a  consumption.  She  received,  however,  some 
temporary  aid,  and  was  enabled  to  reach  the  dwelling  of 
her  kind  friends  in  Leicester,  the  next  day. 

From  this  place,  her  afflicted  husband  frequently  wrote 
to  some  of  his  people  at  Beverly.  The  following  extracts 
are  from  letters  to  his  friend  and  parishioner,  now  Rev. 
J.  W.  Ellingwood  of  Bath,  Me.  They  will  reflect  the 
image  of  his  heart,  as  melting  in  love  for  the  souls  of  his 
people,  as  well  as  for  the  languishing  partner  of  his  joys 
and  sorrows. 

Leicester,  Aug.  31,   Wed.  5  P.  M. 

Dear  Brother, — Since  I  wrote  last,  Mrs.  Emerson 
appears  to  have  been  gaining  gradually,  though  very 
slowly.  To-day  she  has  been  able  to  sit  up  three  or  four 
times,  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  at  a  time.  I  hope  we 
shall  not  feel  too  much  flattered  with  the  prospect  of  her 
ever  being  able  to  return  to  Beverly.  Our  supreme  de- 
pendence must  be  upon  the  Almighty  Physician. 

Mrs.  E.  is  not  so  happy  in  her  mind,  as  appears  desir- 
able. She  earnestly  desires  an  interest  in  the  prayers  of 
her  Beverly  friends.  By  the  great  mercy  of  God,  I  enjoy 
a  greater  degree  of  bodily  health  than  usual ;  and  if  I  am 
not  deceived,  my  soul  also  is  in  health.  I  think  I  feel 
willing  that  God  should  reign,  and  could  bless  his  holy 
name,  though  he  should  bereave  me  of  every  earthly 
friend  and  comfort. 

Be  thou  faithful  unto  death. 

O  my  dear  people  !  They  are  much  upon  my  mind.  I 
hope  God  will  send  them  a  better  supply  in  my  absence, 
than  they  have  when  I  am  at  home.  O  that  he  would 
pour  out  his  Spirit  upon  them. 

Sept.  3. — Your  letter  of  Monday,  which  I  received 
Thursday    evening,  was  peculiarly   interesting.     O    that 


176  LAST    SICKNESS    OF 

God  would  spare  the  dear  brother,  sister,  and  child,  that 
you  mention,  as  sick.  It  is  unspeakably  joyous  to  hear 
that  one  sinner  appears  to  have  "  come  to  herself."  It  is 
my  earnest  desire  and  prayer  and  hope,  that  she  may 
soon  be  brought  to  God.  O  that  the  Almighty  would 
make  bare  his  arm,  and  show  every  stupid  sinner  in  Bev- 
erly, that  he  is  stronger  than  the  strong  man  armed. 
God  is  answering  our  prayers — yes,  our  poor,  defective 
offerings  have  reached  his  throne.  Now,  now  is  the 
time  for  christians  to  bestir  themselves.  If  sinners  are 
awaking,  let  not  christians  sleep.  Is  not  the  field  white 
unto  the  harvest?  O  that  our  brethren  and  sisters  may 
realize,  that  he  that  sleepeth  in  harvest,  is  a  foolish  son 
that  causeth  shame.     Let  them  exhort  one   another  daily. 

I  hone  Mrs.  E.  has  gained  a  little  since  I  wrote  last. 
There  appears  to  be  a  greater  probability  of  her  recover- 
ing to  a  comfortable  measure  of  health,  than  if  she  had 
not  left  Beverly. 

My  presence  appears  to  be  more  desirable  at  Beverly, 
than  ever  it  did  before.  And  yet  if  God  has  a  work  of 
grace  to  do  there,  he  can  do  it  without  me.  For  the 
present,  it  appears  to  be  my  duty  to  continue  here  with 
my  dear  companion.  I  have  made  some  further  exertion 
to  procure  a  supply  for  my  people,  but  without  success. 
I  hope  they  will  have  constant  preaching — good  preach- 
ing;  for,  I  need  not  tell  you,  that  poor  preaching  may 
be  much  worse  than  none. 

Do  write  as  often  as  you  can  afford. 

Sept.  G. — Since  my  last,  Mrs.  E.  has  remained  very 
much  as  she  was  then.  We  cannot  help  cherishing  a 
hope  that  she  may  live  to  return  to  her  beloved  friends  at 
Beverly.  No  important  alteration  appears  to  have  taken 
place  in  the  exercises  of  her  mind.  She  frequently  re- 
grets the  necessity  of  taking  so  much  opium.  For  two  or 
three  days,  my  health  has  not  been  quite  so  good  as  usual. 
1  trust  it  is  nothing  more  than  a  cold ;  but  if  J  knew  it 
was  a  consumption,  I  feel  as  though  I  should  not  be 
greatly  moved.  Yet  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  say  how  I 
should  actually  feel  in  such  a  case.  We  have  great  rea- 
son to  be  thankful  for  the  kindness  which  we  receive  from 
our  friends  here  from  day  to  day. 


HIS    WIFE. 


177 


Mrs.  E.  unites  in  sending  love  to  Mrs.  Ellingwood  and 
all  the  rest  of  our  Beverly  friends. 

Sept.  27. — Brother  Hersey  and  Sister  Charlotte  have 
just  arrived.  Every  part  of  your  letter  is  exceedingly 
interesting.  Notwithstanding  my  melancholy  and  trying 
situation  here,  I  was  longing  to  hear  from  the  dear  peo- 
ple of  my  charge.  I  hope  they  will  not  be  as  sheep  with- 
out a  shepherd.  May  those  who  have  lately  been  called 
to  mourn,  be  enabled  to  sorrow  after  a  godly  sort.  My 
beloved  partner  appears  to  be  gradually  declining.  The 
alteration  for  three  days  past  is  scarcely  perceptible.  Her 
heart  seems  often  overflowing  with  tenderness  and  grat- 
itude to  her  Beverly  friends.  O  that  every  cloud  that 
darkens  her  prospect  into  the  world  of  spirits,  may  soon 
be  dissolved.  There  is  scarcely  any  hope  remaining,  that 
she  will  live  to  return  to  Beverly.  It  is  her  desire  that 
her  mortal  part  may  be  deposited  there — a  desire  with 
which  all  concerned  will  undoubtedly  wish  to  comply  ; 
and  I  suppose,  it  will  be  practicable.  Through  the  great 
goodness  and  mercy  of  God,  my  health  is  as  good  as 
usual ;  and  I  trust  I  am  favored  with  some  degree  of  pa- 
tience and  comfort  of  the  scriptures.  O  my  brother  the 
word  of  God  never  appeared  so  precious  to  me  before  ;  it 
is  sweeter  than  the  honey  or  the  honey  comb.  Let  it  be 
the  burden  of  your  prayers  for  me,  that  I  may  receive 
such  instruction  from  the  frowns  of  a  holy  Providence  as 
they  are  calculated  to  teach. 

Leicester,  Oct.  8,  1808. 

To    the    Third  Congregational  Church   and   Society  in 
Beverly. 

My  dear  Brethren,  Sisters,  and  Friends, — God 
is  dealing  with  us  in  judgment.  In  afflicting  me  he  is 
afflicting  you ;  and  in  thus  afflicting  you  he  again  afflicts 
me  ;  so  that  I  have  sorrow  upon  sorrow.  But  I  trust  he 
is  often  pleased,  in  infinite  mercy,  to  turn  my  sorrows  into 
joy,  a  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory.  May  none  of 
us  despise  the  chastening  of  the  Lord,  nor  faint  under 
his  rebukes.  I  feel  that  I  deserve  and  need  the  rod. 
O  may  I  not,  like  Ahaz,  wax  worse  and  worse  under 
afflictions.  To  be  so  long  absent  from  the  people  of  my 
charge  whom,  if  I   am   not  deceived,  I  love  as  my  own 


178  LETTER  TO  HIS  PEOPLE. 

soul,  constitutes  no  small  part  of  my  complicated  trial. 
But  let  us  remember,  that,  though  all  these  things  seem 
so  greatly  against  us,  yet  God  is  able  to  cause  that  they 
should  work  together  for  our  immortal  good.  When  I 
left  you,  I  had  no  expectation  of  being  absent  a  single 
week. 

For  a  considerable  part  of  the  time,  since  I  have  been 
here,  I  have  cherished  the  hope,  that  my  beloved  com- 
panion would  be  able  to  return  to  Beverly,  and  again  re- 
joice with  you  in  the  land  of  the  living.  Of  this,  she  has 
been  exceedingly  desirous.  She  often  expresses  her  great 
and  tender  regard  for  her  Beverly  friends.  To  give  up 
the  fond  expectation  of  again  beholding  you  on  earth,  re- 
quires in  her  a  degree  of  self-denial,  very  great  and 
trying.  But  I  hope  she  is  willing  to  give  up  friends 
and  brothers,  and  sisters,  parents,  and  child,  husband 
and  all  for  Christ.  She  has  indeed  been  under  great 
doubt  and  darkness  for  a  considerable  part  of  the  time, 
since  she  has  been  here.  But  I  hope  your  prayers  for  her 
have  been  heard,  and  that  the  Lord  has  appeared  for  her 
relief.  For  several  days,  in  the  near  prospect  of  death 
and  eternity,  she  has  manifested  scarcely  any  distress  of 
mind.  She  has  not,  indeed,  those  clear,  lively  views  of 
divine  things,  and  those  high  exercises  of  joy,  which,  I 
trust,  she  had  in  time  past.  But  all  painful  anxiety  re- 
specting the  world  to  come,  appears  to  be  gone.  This, 
she  sometimes  fears  is  owing  to  her  stupidity.  I  must 
think  that  she  is  a  true  mourner  in  Zion  ;  and  that  God 
will  comfort  her  with  everlasting  consolation.  She  mourns 
and  weeps,  and  weeps  and  mourns,  for  her  sins ;  and  then 
mourns  that  she  is  so  little  affected  with  a  sense  of  her 
vileness.  I  never  saw  a  person  that  appeared  to  be  at  a 
greater  remove  from  a  boasting,  self-righteous  spirit.  It 
seems  to  be  habitually  her  heart's  desire  and  prayer  to 
God,  that  she  may  be  more  completely  reconciled  to  his 
holy  will.  For  this,  she  is  very  earnest  in  calling  upon 
her  christian  friends  to  pray.  She  has  undoubtedly  ex- 
perienced the  benefit  of  the  prayers  of  her  friends  in 
Beverly.  O  may  they  be  encouraged  to  pray  more  earn- 
estly, that  God  would  lift  the  light  of  his  countenance 
more  and  more  brightly  upon  her.  Though  you  can- 
not reasonably  expect  to  behold  her  living  countenance 
again  on  earth,  O  that  every  one   of  you    may  be  pre* 


LETTER  TO  HIS  PEOPLE.  179 

pared  to  meet  and  forever  behold  her  in  that  blessed 
world  to  which  she  appears  to  be  hastening  ;  and  O  that 
I  may  be  prepared  to  enjoy  an  eternal  union  in  heaven 
with  her  with  whom  I  have  been  so  happily  united  on 
earth.  O  that  I  may  be  more  faithful  in  the  glorious 
cause  of  my  blessed  Redeemer.  I  am  ready  to  fear  that 
it  is  on  account  of  my  unfaithfulness  in  the  work,  that 
God  is  now  taking  me  off  from  my  ministerial  labors ; 
that  it  is  on  account  of  unfaithfulness  to  you,  that  I  am 
separated  from  you  so  far,  and  so  long.  Never  before 
did  it  appear  to  me  so  great  and  desirable  a  work,  so 
high  and  precious  a  privilege,  to  preach  the  unsearch- 
able riches  of  Christ.  Though  I  never  before  had  so 
earnest  a  desire  to  behold  your  faces  in  the  house  of  God 
and  address  you  in  the  name  of  Christ,  yet  I  feel  utterly 
unworthy  of  so  great  and  precious  a  privilege.  I  know 
it  would  be  just  in  God  to  separate  me  entirely  from  my 
dearly  beloved  and  affectionate  people;  who  have  so 
greatly  abounded  in  their  kindness  to  me ;  with  whom  I 
have  taken  so  much  unspeakable  comfort  in  conversation, 
in  preaching,  in  singing,  in  praying,  and  in  the  sacra- 
ments. Unless  I  am  very  much  deceived,  my  greatest 
concern  under  my  present  trial,  as  far  as  it  relates  to  my- 
self, is,  that  it  may  serve  to  make  me  more  humble,  more 
watchful,  more  prayerful,  more  diligent,  more  zealous, 
and  in  all  respects  a  better  man  and  a  better  minister. 
For  this  desirable  end,  I  dare  not  trust  to  any  present 
resolution  ;  I  dare  not  trust  to  my  own  heart,  for  it  has 
often  deceived  me  ;  and,  but  for  infinite  grace,  it  would 
long  ago  have  destroyed  me.  But  yet  I.  do  venture  to 
entertain  some  hope  that,  through  the  prevalency  of  your 
prayers,  God  will  enable  me  to  be  more  faithful.  I  beg 
and  entreat  every  one  of  you  to  pray  daily  and  fervently 
for  your  unworthy  minister;  not  so  much  that  I  may 
live  long,  as  that  I  may  be  faithful  while  I  do  live. 

I  have  already  intimated,  that  my  unexpected  separation 
so  long  from  you,  may  have  been  designed  in  Providence, 
as  a  judgment  upon  me  for  my  unfaithfulness.  But  is  it 
not  possible,  that  God  had  some  farther  end  in  view  ? 
Notwithstanding  all  my  unfaithfulness  and  imperfection, 
your  consciences  will  bear  me  witness,  that  1  have  declar- 
ed to  you  some  truth — that  I  have  declared  to  you  muck 
truth.     A  preached  gospel  is   a  privilege  that   but  a  small 


180 


LETTER    TO    HIS    PEOPLE. 


part  of  mankind  enjoy.  What  an  evil  and  horrible  thing 
must  it  be  for  any  of  those  few,  who  do  enjoy,  to  abuse 
it.  My  dear  people,  are  any  of  you  of  the  number  ?  Do 
you  realize  what  a  great  and  distinguishing  advantage  it 
is,  to  be  permitted  to  hear  the  joyful  sound,  the  good  news 
of  salvation?  How  often  did  God  deprive  his  ancient 
people  of  great  privileges  because  they  abused  them  ! 
And  what  tremendous  judgments  have  they  suffered  for 
neglecting  and  despising  the  gospel !  If  we  neglect  the 
great  salvation  of  Christ,  we  have  something  worse  to  fear 
than  merely  being  deprived  of  the  gospel ;  we  have  rea- 
son to  fear  something  worse  than  the  loss  of  all  the  bless- 
ings of  the  gospel  ;  we  have  reason  to  fear  all  the  eternal 
curses  it  denounces. 

Have  you  not  some  reason  to  fear,  that  God  has  been 
pleased  to  deprive  you,  in  some  measure,  of  the  gospel, 
because  you  have  so  poorly  improved  it?  Have  you  not 
reason  to  fear  that  unless  you  improve  it  better  in  future, 
he  will  deprive  you  of  it  entirely,  and  give  it  to  others, 
who  will  bring  forth  better  fruits?  Have  not  many  of  you 
reason  to  fear  that  uuless  you  improve  the  gospel — unless 
you  soon  improve  the  gospel,  better  than  ever  you  have 
done,  that  God  will  tread  you  down  in  his  anger,  and 
trample  on  you  in  his  fury,  and  make  you  the  wretched 
monuments  of  his  eternal  displeasure? 

I  hope,  my  dear  friends,  I  am  not  disposed  to  impute 
more  blame  to  any  of  you  than  I  am  willing  to  take  to 
myself.  In  a  few  moments,  comparatively  speaking,  you 
and  I  must  stand  before  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ, 
where  every  one  must  give  account  of  himself.  If  then 
your  Almighty  Judge  should  ask  you,  why  you  did  not 
better  improve  his  preached  word,  it  will  not  avail  for 
you  to  reply  by  asking  ;  Why  did  not  our  minister  preach 
it  more  faithfully?  That  must  be  a  question,  (and  an 
awful  question  it  is,)  for  the  minister  to  answer,  and  not 
the  Judge  ;  a  question  for  the  Judge  to  ask,  and  not  for  sin- 
ners. Many,  no  doubt,  are  disposed  to  take  refuge  in  the 
unfaithfulness  of  ministers.  But  it  is  a  miserable  refuge 
that  the  hail  must  sweep  away.  My  unfaithfulness  will 
never  save  you.  My  sins,  though  they  were  ten  thousand 
times  greater  than  yours  ;  though  they  might  destroy  me 
forever,  could  never  save  you.  You  will  not  be  con- 
demned for   not  improving  light  that  you  never  enjoyed. 


SICKNESS    OF    HIS    WIFE.  181 

But  you  may  be  condemned  for  abusing  the  light  that 
you  do  enjoy.  Nay,  if  you  believe  not,  you  are  con- 
demned already  ;  and  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  you. 

0  that  you  may  all  be  wise,  that  you  may  understand  this, 
consider  of  your  latter  end,  and  immediately  prepare  to 
meet  your  God  and  enjoy  his  blissful  presence  forever. 
The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with  you  all. 
Amen. 

Your  affectionate  pastor  and  servant  in  the  gospel, 

Joseph  Emerson. 

TJie  Third  Congregational  Church  and  Society  in  Beverly. 

Considerable  portions  have  been  omitted  in  the  above 
letter.  The  whole  was  nearly  as  long  as  a  sermon,  and 
was  probably  communicated  to  the  people  in  public. 

Oct.  15. — Mrs.  E.  is  not  much  altered,  for  two  days, 
though  she  seems  rather  more  discouraged  to-day  than 
before.  She  has  been  bolstered  up  in  a  swing  chair, 
above  an  hour.  How  much  longer  she  may  continue,  God 
only  can  tell.  My  trial  waxes  greater  and  greater  in  al- 
most every  point  of  view ;  but  God  is  able  to  hold  me  up 
Oh  my  dear  people,  may  God  send  them  a  supply. 

Oct.  29. — Though  Mrs.  E.  is  not  much  weaker  than 
she  was  several  days  ago,  yet  her  symptoms  appear  rather 
more  unfavorable.  She  seems  to  think  that  her  depar- 
ture cannot  be  many  days  distant.  Her  mind  appears  to 
be  in  a  good  measure  tranquil.  Her  meditations,  when 
she  is  able  to  meditate,  appear  to  be  almost  wholly  upon 
objects  that  have  an  immediate  relation  to  death,  judg- 
ment, and  eternity.  God  only  can  tell  how  much  longer 
her  life  may  be  spared,  and  I  feel  willing  that  this  inter- 
esting point  should  be  determined  according  to  the  dic- 
tates of  infinite  wisdom  and  benevolence.  My  health  as 
also  that  of  sisters  Charlotte  and  Burley,  continues  poor. 

1  should  be  scarcely  able  to  preach,  were  I  at  home.  O 
that  I  may  have  patience  to  bear  whatever  God  may  see 
fit  to  lay  upon  me,  and  ever  be  disposed  to  turn  to  Him 
that  smiteth  me,  and  trust  in  Him  though  he  slay  me. 

Nov.  9. — I  have  just  past  through   the   solemn,  affect- 
ing, and,  I  hope,  improving   scene  of  the   funeral  of  my 
16 


182  DEATH    OF    HIS    WIFE. 

dear,  dear,  departed  companion.     When  I  wrote  before, 
I  did  not  think  of  attempting  to  have  the  body  conveyed 
to  Beverly,  this  week.     But  we  are  now  making  arrange- 
ments for  the  purpose. 
In  very  great  haste. 

The  death  of  his  wife  took  place,  Nov.  7,  two  days  pre- 
vious to  the  date  of  the  last  letter. — For  many  of  the 
deeply  interesting  circumstances  respecting  her  I  must 
refer  the  reader  to  her  life  as  published  by  her  hus- 
band, and  since,  in  part,  perpetuated  as  one  of  the  tracts 
of  the  American  Tract  Society,  by  Rev,  Daniel  Smith, 
her  pious  friend,  who  has  since  followed  her,  through  a 
peaceful  death,  to  the  recompense  of  reward.  That  thrill- 
ing tract  has  already  been  blessed  as  a  timely  warning  to 
many  a  soul.     May  it  be  thus  blessed  to  thousands  more. 

It  would  be  an  easy,  and  a  mournfully  delightful  task, 
to  enlarge  on  a  character  consisting  of  attributes  so  strik- 
ing as  that  of  my  departed  sister :  but  I  must  here  be  con- 
tent with  the  above  reference  ;  and  hasten  to  another 
chapter  on  the  more  immediate  subject  before  us. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


FROM    THE    DEATH    OF    HIS     SECOND    WIFE,     TO    HIS    THIRD 
MARRIAGE.        1808— 1810. 


On  the  connected  duties  of  christian  zeal  and  self-pre- 
servation— Dissertations  on  his  studies,  etc.  recommended 
to  a  student — Death  of  his  oldest  brother — Evangelical 
Primer — On  the  best  mode  of  preaching. 

Reduced  again  to  solitude,  my  afflicted  brother  did  not 
mourn  as  they  who  have  no  hope  ; — nor  yet  as  one  who 
had  no  further  object  for  which  to  live  and  labor  in  this 
vale  of  tears.  Indescribable  as  were  his  attachments  to 
those  whose  loss  he  had  thus  been  called  in  sad  succes- 
sion, to  bemoan,  there  was  yet  a  being,  seen  and  felt  by 
faith,  whom  he  loved  still  more.  For  the  promotion  of  his 
cause,  it  was  still  his  delight  to  live  and  labor,  and  to 
do  all  in  his  power  to  excite  others  to  labor  through  all 
the  days  that  can  here  be  attained.  Proof  of  this,  if 
needed,  will  be  found  in  the  following,  to  his  sister,  R. 
Eaton.  ■ 

Beverly,  Dec.  13,  1808. 

Your  letter  of  Nov.  22,  afforded  me  no  small  satisfac- 
tion. At  this  time  every  expression  of  kindness  from  my 
beloved  connexions,  is  peculiarly  comforting  and  endear- 
ing. I  hope,  however,  I  enjoy  higher  comfort  than  man 
can  give.  May  the  Lord  reward  your  sisterly  benevolence 
a  hundred  fold.  It  is  my  fervent  wish  and  prayer,  that 
this  winter  you  may  be  truly  and  constantly  happy  ;  but 
above  all,  that  you  may  be  useful;  that  you  may  not  only 
increase  abundantly  in  the  knowledge  and  love  of  God, 
but  also  do  much  good  to  others  and  greatly  advance  the 
kingdom  of  our  glorious  Redeemer.  O  let  us  be  up  and 
doing ;  let  us  work  while  the  day  lasts.     The  night  of 


184  ZEAL,    BUT    NOT 

death  is  rapidly  hastening.  Two  of  the  dear  sisters  of 
this  church,  Mrs.  Toutain  and  Mrs.  Haskell,  have  taken 
their  flight,  I  trust  their  upward  flight,  since  my  return 
from  Leicester.  My  full  heart  is  sometimes  ready  to  ex- 
claim, like  Ezekiel,  Ah,  Lord  God  !  wilt  thou  make  a 
full  end  of  the  remnant  of  our  Israel  1  But  God  knows 
when  it  is  best  to  gather  the  dear  sheep  of  his  pasture 
into  his  fold  above  ;  yes,  and  he  knows  how  to  carry  on 
his  work  below  without  their  labors.  It  is  surely,  in  one 
point  of  view,  matter  of  rejoicing  for  the  servants  of 
Christ,  to  enter  into  the  eternal  joy  of  their  Lord.  Bless- 
ed are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord.  Perhaps  Christ's 
spiritual  temple  is  as  much  advanced  when  a  saint  is  re- 
moved to  glory  as  when  a  sinner  repenteth.  Let  us  not 
mourn,  then,  as  others  who  have  no  hope.  "  Come,"  my 
sister 

"  Come  let  us  anew  our  journoy  pursue, 
And  never  stand  still  till  our  Master  appear." 

Let  us  not,  however,  work  beyond  our  strength,  lest  we 
bring  upon  ourself  swift  dissolution,  if  not  destruction. 
Self-killing  is  undoubtedly  criminal,  (I  do  not  say  equally 
criminal,)  whether  perpetrated  by  a  sword  or  pistol,  by 
intemperate  eating  and  drinking,  or  by  intemperate  exer- 
tion in  a  good  cause. 

Watch  and  pray,  and  strive  against  that  fear  of  man, 
that  dreadful  slavish  fear,  which  bringeth  a  snare.  Be 
courteous,  be  gentle,  be  tender,  and  really  affectionate. 
Let  your  conduct  display  the  charms  of  the  gospel.  But 
be  faithful.  Let  the  world  think  you  what  they  please  ; 
let  them  call  you  what  they  please — zealot,  enthusiast, 
sectarian,  splceny,  mad,  fool,  or  any  thing  else — be  faith- 
ful. Endeavor  to  please  God  rather  than  man.  O  be 
faithful  unto  death  and  you  shall  receive  a  crown.  I 
know  it  is  much  harder  to  encounter  smiles  than  frowns. 
But  let  us  remember,  that  neither  the  frowns  nor  smiles 
of  our  fellow  dust,  will  be  received  at  the  bar  of  God  our 
Savior,  as  excuses  for  violating  his  laws.  Let  us  arise 
then,  my  sister,  and  take  to  ourselves  the  whole  armor 
of  God,  that  we  may  be  able  to  stand  in  the  evil  day  ;  that 
we  may  resist  temptation  ;  that  in  the  strength  of  Christ 
we  may  be  able  to  face  a  smiling  world. 

The  above  strong  expressions  on  "  self-killing,"  were 
perhaps  prompted  in  consequence  of  his  being  called  to 


SELF-KILLING.  185 

resist  a  very  natural  temptation,  in  such  circumstances,  to 
throw  away  his  life  at  once  in  excessive  labors,  reckless  of 
the  consequences  to  himself.  Happy  would  it  be  for  a 
dying  world,  if  all  truly  devoted  men  would  listen  to  so 
timely  a  warning,  and  remember  that,  while  here  below, 
they  "  are  flesh  and  not  spirit ;"  and  that  it  is  their  duty  to 
live  and  labor  as  long  as  possible.  It  is  reported  of  one  of 
the  brightest  ornaments  of  the  ministry  in  this  or  in  any 
age,  that  when  sinking  in  the  midst  of  his  days,  through 
excessive  toil,  he  exclaimed  in  his  own  emphatic  manner, 
on  his  dying  bed  ;  "  I  have  thrown  away  my  life  like  a 
fool."  I  dare  not  now  give  his  name,  lest  it  should  grieve 
his  friends; — nor  dare  I  withhold  the  fact,  lest  I  should  be 
accessory  to  the  death  of  some  whose  ears  it  may  reach 
in  time  to  save  them  from  the  deed,  in  these  days  of  pecu- 
liar peril  to  the  zealous  preacher.  Strange, — and  yet  not 
so  strange,  in  one  view  of  it, — that  the  conscience  of  the 
holy  man,  which  is  alive,  like  the  conscience  of  an  angel, 
to  every  other  duty,  is  here,  sometimes,  found  perfectly 
dead.  He  seems  even  to  court  and  tempt  this  self-mar- 
tyrdom, as  the  half-enlightened  christians  of  other  days, 
were  seen  to  court  the  flames.  The  practical  question, 
which  his  amiable  infatuation  is  so  rashly  deciding,  is  not 
the  one  he  is  so  ready  to  imagine,  as  presented  by  the 
good  old  adage,  "better  to  wear  out  than  to  rust  out;" 
an  adage  already  perverted  to  the  voluntary  death  of  so 
many  good  men.  But  the  question  is  this — Whether  "  it 
is  better  to  wear  out"  or  to  burn  up  in  the  service  of 
Christ.  Such  a  man  can  never  "  rust  out."  Then  let 
him  take  care  to  live,  if  from  no  other  consideration,  at 
least  from  this,  that  he  may  reprove  the  indolent,  instead 
of  furnishing  them  with  a  fresh  pretext  for  their  sloth,  by 
the  heedlessness  of  his  exposure. 

One  suggestion  may  here  be  made,  with  propriety, 
respecting  the  manner  in  which  christian  friends  are  cffec 
tually  to  discharge  their  duty  in  this  matter.  If  we  would 
save  our  best  and  most  zealous  brethren  from  the  sin  of 
throwing  away  their  lives,  we  must  not  mingle  too  much 
of  admiration  with  our  cautions,  lest  we  add  fuel  to  the 
flame  we  would  moderate,  in  their  imperfect  natures. 
Let  them  truly  know,  that  if  they  heedlessly  persist  in  the 
imprudence,  they  will  not  only  destroy  their  usefulness, 
but  may  also  diminish  their  credit  among  reflecting  men. 
16* 


18G  ON    LIVING    TO    LABOR. 

Mere  mistake  as  to  what  one  is  able  to  endure,  is,  indeed, 
easily  removed  by  light,  by  kind  christian  advice  :  but  if, 
in  any  case,  Jehu  be  found  still  breathing  at  all  in  the 
heart,  it  will  be  better  to  crucify  him  at  once,  by  such 
timely  rebuke,  than  suffer  him  to  live  and  kill  the  friend 
of  God  and  his  church.  When  the  christian  world  shall 
come  generally  to  use  such  strains  as  we  find  in  the  above 
extract,  we  may  hope  for  an  abatement  of  the  evil  of 
"  self-killing;"  and  that  too  without  the  diminution  of  that 
zeal  which  is  according  to  a  full  knowledge  of  duty  as 
well  as  truth.  Amid  strong  exhortations  to  action,  let  us 
mingle  cautions  that  have  some  effective  meaning. 

Whether  my  dear  brother  was  himself  always  suf- 
ficiently mindful  of  his  own  sound  doctrine  on  this  subject, 
I  will  not  attempt  to  decide.  But  this  I  believe  will  be 
universally  accorded  by  those  who  know  him,,  that  he 
mingled  much  caution  with  much  zeal.  In  the  language 
so  often  on  his  tongue,  it  was  truly  his  delight  to  "  work 
while  it  is  day  ;"  and  he  sought  carefully  to  prolong  the 
day,  that  he  might  work.  Had  he  possessed  less  of  light  or 
less  of  conscience  on  this  point,  he  would  probably  have 
been  at  less  expense  of  care  and  treasure  in  the  preserva- 
tion of  health  and  life,  in  his  frail  and  shattered  frame.  It 
was  often  with  him  an  act  of  christian  independence, 
amid  a  world  of  robust  men,  to  be  seen  so  singularly  care- 
ful of  the  fragile  tenement  of  his  soul. 

We  now  turn  again  to  the  subject  of  education,  in  some 
of  its  bearings,  in  connection  with  other  things,  as  seen 
in  the  following. 

Beverly,  Jan.  26,  1809. 

Beloved  Brotiieii  R. — You  pay  a  degree  of  respect 
to  my  advice,  to  which  I  am  by  no  means  entitled.  If, 
however,  I  have  any  influence  over  your  mind,  I  would 
gladly  improve  it  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  good  of 
your  soul.  But,  my  brother,  how  is  it  possible  for  me 
to  ghe  you  such  advice,  as  you  seem  to  expect,  till  I  am 
more  particularly  acquainted  with  your  attainments  and 
pursuits  in  literature  and  religion  1  I  wish  to  know,  how 
far  you  have  complied  with  the  advice,  that  I  have  given 
you  already.  I  must,  therefore,  advise  you  to  write  me 
a  long  letter  immediately,  and  state,  particularly  what 
progress  and  attainments  you  have  made  in  the  knowl- 
edge and  love  of  God  ;  how  far  you  have  proceeded  in 


COLLEGE    STUDIES. 


187 


reading  the  bible  ;  how  many  chapters  you  usually  read  in 
a  day;  how  many  passages  you  have  committed  to  mem- 
ory ;  what  progress  you  have  made  in  the  arts  of  thinking; 
reading,  public  speaking,  conversing,  hearing,  remem- 
bering, forgetting,  singing,  the  sublime  art  of  praying 
and  the  divine  art  of  doing  good.  Man  has  been  defined 
"  a  bundle  of  habits."  I  believe,  the  definition  is  above 
half  correct.  Science  and  art  should  go  together.  I  pro- 
fess myself  a  great  friend  to  science.  Would  to  God,  I  had 
ten  times  more  of  it.  But  I  wish  for  it  only  in  connexion 
with  art.  I  believe  a  man  may  be  possessed  of  very 
great  science,  and  yet  be  a  very  great  fool ;  that  is,  act 
very  foolishly  in  almost  all  he  does.  All  our  knowledge 
should  be  practical,  and  we  should  endeavor  to  forget 
what  is  not  so.  He  who  spends  his  life  in  treasuring  up 
science  without  using  it,  is  but  one  degree  above  the  vile 
slave  of  Mammon,  who  lives  upon  potato  skins,  that  he 
may  die  with  his  cellar  full  of  gold.  So  far  as  art  and 
science  can  exist  separately,  art  is  by  far  the  most 
valuable.  A  good  education,  therefore,  consists  much 
more  in  forming  good  habits,  than  in  filling  the  head  with 
the  best  of  notions  and  demonstrations.  1  wish,  there- 
fore, to  know  what  progress  you  have  made  in  art,  or  the 
formation  of  habits,  in  order  to  advise  you  how  to  pro- 
ceed. 

As  science  and  art  should  go  hand  in  hand,  I  wish  you 
to  unite  them  as  far  as  possible.  Some  parts  of  science, 
indeed,  you  must  study,  on  account  of  their  connexion 
with  other  parts,  and  their  tendency  to  improve  the  mind. 
But  such  parts  should  not  engage  much  of  your  time. 
Your  relation  to  the  seminary  makes  it  your  duty  to  pay 
some  attention  to  all  your  college  exercises.  But  I  do 
not  wish  you  to  appear  any  thing  more  than  barely  decent 
in  those  branches,  which  you  have  no  reason  to  think  will 
be  of  any  considerable  practical  utility  ;  nor  by  any  means 
to  attend  to  them  more  than  is  absolutely  necessary.  I 
should  rather  have  such  a  knowledge  of  Hebrew  and 
Greek,  as  I  could  now  possess  in  six  months,  than  to  be 
as  great  a  mathematician  as  Newton,  as  great  an  astron- 
omer as  Ilerschel,  as  great  a  naturalist  as  Swammerdam, 
as  great  a  navigator  as  Columbus,  as  great  a  chemist  as 
Lavoisier,  as  great  an  anatomist  as  Albinus,  or  as  great 
a  Latin  scholar  as  Cicero.     Though  you  may  not  be  able 


183  COLLEGE    STUDIES. 

to  reduce  all  your  knowledge  to  immediate  practice,  you 
may  have  all  your  practices  founded  upon  good  princi- 
ples ;  you  may  be  able,  and  I  will  venture  to  say,  you 
ought  to  be  able,  to  give  a  good  reason  for  every  thing 
you  do.  Endeavor,  as  far  as  possible,  to  ascertain,  what 
practical  advantages  may  be  derived  from  every  study 
you  pursue.  When  I  first  began  the  Greek  testament,  it 
was  with  a  design  to  enter  college.  With  the  same  de- 
sign I  read  it  through  and  through.  I  attained  my  end. 
I  entered  college  without  any  difficulty.  But  I  knew  very 
little  more  about  the  meaning  of  difficult  words  and 
phrases  in  the  Greek  testament,  than  I  did  before  I  could 
distinguish  alpha  from  omega.  And  when  I  left  college, 
I  had  done  very  little  more  toward  attaining  the  end,  for 
which  we  should  study  Greek,  than  when  I  entered.  I 
studied  Homer  and  Xenophon,  in  order  to  recite  them  ; 
not  in  order  to  understand  the  lively  oracles  of  God.  Alas, 
I  did  not  derive  a  quarter  of  the  advantage  from  studying 
Greek  before  I  left  college,  that  I  might  have  derived 
with  the  same  labor.  And  this  was  the  case  with  most  of 
my  studies.  I  therefore  consider  my  college  education 
of  small  value,  compared  with  what  it  might  have  been. 
I  did  not  keep  in  view,  I  rarely  considered,  the  great 
object,  for  which  we  ought  to  study.  I  used  to  study,  to 
study  night  and  day,  that  I  might  recite,  that  I  might 
gain  the  character  of  a  good  scholar,  that  I  might  finally 
be  a  learned  man  ;  not  that  I  might  do  good  in  the  world. 
My  brother,  learn  wisdom  from  my  folly.  When  you 
leave  college,  may  your  education  be  worth  ten  times  as 
much  as  mine  was.  Do  not  study,  in  order  to  shine  as  a 
great  man,  but  in  order  to  do  good.  With  regard  to 
each  of  your  studies,  inquire  solemnly  and  deliberately 
with  yourself,  "  what  advantage  can  1  gain  from  this 
study  to  assist  me  in  the  all-important  business  of  doing 
good  ?  and  how  shall  I  pursue  it  in  order  to  gain  that 
advantage  to  the  greatest  possible  degree?" 

I  believe  I  have  already  advised  you  to  write  a  disser- 
tation upon  the  respective  advantages  of  each  of  your 
college  studies,  about  the  time  of  commencing  the  study. 
Have  you  done  it  with  regard  to  those  you  have  finished, 
and  those  you  are  now  pursuing  1  If  there  be  any 
study  of  which  you  cannot  see  any  considerable  advant- 
ages, no  doubt  your  instructors  will  find  it  a  pleasure  to 


PASTORAL    LETTERS,    ETC.  189 

point  out  to  you  the  advantages  of  the  branches  which 
they  teach.  I  would  insist  upon  knowing  the  utility  of 
every  thing.  You  cannot  attain  the  advantages  of  any 
study,  to  any  considerable  degree,  without  at  the  same 
time  knowing  and  considering  those  advantages.  The 
best  means,  or  one  of  the  best,  you  can  use,  in  order  to 
know,  realize,  and  attain  these  advantages,  is  to  write 
upon  them.  You  may  write  your  dissertations  in  the 
form  of  letters,  and  send  them  to  me.  I  will  engage  to 
make  remarks  upon  them,  which,  possibly,  you  may  find 
useful.  You  may  now  have  some  opportunity  to  try  your- 
self and  ascertain,  whether  you  really  prize  my  letters  as 
much  as  you  imagine.  I  am  necessitated  almost  wholly 
to  neglect  my  former  correspondents.  Sometimes  I  think 
I  must  neglect  you  also.  My  health  is  poor  ;  and  I  never 
before  felt  so  hurried  as  of  late,  and,  as  I  expect,  will  be 
the  case  for  several  months  to  come.  I  have  to  prepare 
and  preach  three  sermons  a  week,  and  am  much  engaged 
in  preparing  for  the  press,  some  of  the  writings  of  my  be- 
loved Eleanor,  and  a  brief  sketch  of  her  life.  They  will 
be  published  in  a  pamphlet  with  a  sermon,  preached  by 
Mr.  S.  Worcester,  occasioned  by  her  death.  You  may 
expect  one  of  the  pamphlets  by  mail,  in  about  six  weeks. 
After  this  is  published,  I  shall  be  engaged  for  several 
weeks  in  preparing  and  publishing  another  edition  of  my 
Minor  Catechisms,  with  great  additions  and  improvements. 
I  have  long  been  talking  about  my  Reference  Catechism, 
and  spent  much  time  and  labor  upon  it.  But  it  is  nearly 
completed.  My  friends  are  inquiring  from  day  to  day,  when 
it  will  be  published.  If  I  should  live  to  finish  my  Refer- 
ence Catechism,  I  intend  writing  dissertations  for  the  use 
of  myself  and  some  of  my  particular  friends,  upon  the  four 
following  subjects,  preaching,  conversation,  history,  and 
education.  The  one  upon  preaching  will  contain  the 
substance  of  all  I  shall  then  know  of  logic  and  rhetoric; 
and  the  one  upon  education,  will  embrace  school-keeping. 
These  dissertations  I  think  of  writing  in  the  form  of  let- 
ters to  you  ;  partly  to  requite  you  for  the  epistolary  disser- 
tations, which  I  expect  to  receive  from  you,  and  partly 
because  I  think  it  one  of  the  most  agreeable  and  profit- 
able methods,  in  which  I  can  express  my  thoughts  upon 
almost  every  subject. 


190  DEATH    OF    A    BROTHER,    ETC. 

You  see  I  have  written  you  a  long  letter.  I  have  here 
said  nothing  but  what  appeared  correct,  when  I  wrote ; 
but  possibly  I  have  here  said  something,  which,  upon  ma- 
ture consideration,  I  might  wish  to  recal.  You  will  judge 
for  yourself  what  is  useful  and  what  is  not ;  and  guard 
against  adopting  with  implicit  confidence,  the  opinions  of 
myself,  or  any  one  else. 

My  father  appeared  very  much  afflicted  and  cast  down, 
for  a  short  time  after  my  brother  died  ;*  but  has  since  ap- 
peared much  more  composed.  Sister  Emerson  and  her 
children  have  removed  to  Holies.  I  am  informed  that  she 
bears  her  heavy  trial  with  great  fortitude  and  calmness. 
Both  my  brother  and  my  wife  appeared  to  die  in  the  tri- 
umphs of  faith.  If  I  am  not  greatly  deceived,  I  have 
been  truly  comforted.  I  need  not  tell  you,  1  need  not  tell 
any  who  were  acquainted  with  her,  that  my  loss  is  great. 
I  feel  it  to  be  great.  Yet  I  have  had  but  very  few  melan- 
choly hours  on  account  of  her  death.  What  agonizing 
sorrows  may  yet  be  in  reserve  for  me,  the  Lord  only 
knows  ;  and  I  am  willing  to  leave  the  matter  wholly  with 
him.  I  have  just  recommenced  housekeeping.  My  mother 
Read  and  sister  S.  Eaton,  are  with  me.  My  little  N.  is 
plump,  healthy,  sprightly,  loquacious,  and  very  engaging. 
1  hope  I  shall  not  forget  that  she  is  mortal.  O  that  we 
may  be  enabled  to  mourn  and  rejoice,  to  live  and  die, 
like  christians  indeed. 

The  plan  above  recommended,  of  writing  a  short  dis- 
sertation on  each  study  as  1  was  entering  upon  it,  I  pur- 
sued to  some  extent ;  and  now  have  only  to  regret  that  I 
did  not  pursue  it  more  uniformly.  My  experience  has  led 
me  to  think  it  one  of  the  best  among  the  many  directions 
my  brother  gave,  for  rendering  my  studies  at  once  the 
more  pleasing  and  useful.  It  is  always  pleasant  to  see  the 
ends  to  be  gained  by  the  pursuits  on  which  we  enter ;  and 
when  we  clearly  see  these  ends,  we  shall  be  much  more 
likely  to   attain   them.     While   such   knowledge  changes 

*  Daniel  Emerson,  our  oldest  brother,  whose  name  has  before  been 
mentioned  in  such  a  connexion,  that  I  think  it  proper  here  to  add,  that 
after  leaving  college,  he  studied  law,  but  not  having  a  taste  for  the  prac- 
tice, he  spent  some  years  as  a  merchant;  when,  on  his  hopeful  conversion, 
he  entered  on  the  more  congenial  work  of  the  ministry;  and  was  but  re- 
cently settled  at  Dartmouth,  near  New  Bedford,  Ms.  when  he  was  sudden- 
ly removed  by  death,  to  the  great  allliction  of  his  people,  kindred  and 
mends. 


MENTAL    CONCENTRATION.  191 

drudgery  into  delight,  it  also  doubles  our  efforts,  and  like- 
wise directs   these  efforts   more  wisely. — I  doubt  not  that 
it  was  by  the  intense   contemplation  of  the  specific  objects 
to  be  gained  by  his  pursuits,  joined  with  his  native  ardor, 
that  my  brother  found  his  whole   soul  engrossed   succes- 
sively in  these  pursuits,  through   life.     Each  one,  for  the 
time,  became  practically  the  great  object  for   which  he 
lived.     When  really  great  in   itself,  such  a  specific  con- 
templation of  its  benefits,  fired  his  soul  with  a  noble  zeal 
for  their  attainment.     They  completely  filled  the  sphere 
of  his  feelings  if  not  of  his  judgment,  and  put   the  ener- 
gies of  the  whole  man  in  requisition  for  their  accomplish- 
ment.    The  cynic  may  deride  this   as  enthusiasm.     But 
it  is  by  such  enthusiasts  as  this  process   will   inflame,  and 
not  by   cynics,  that    any  thing    is   accomplished  by   the 
limited  minds  of  mortals.     We  must  be  brought  to  act  as 
though  the  business  before  us  is  the  great  thing  for  which 
we  exist.     The  art  thus  to  concentrate  and  fix  the  mind 
on  a  single  object,  is  like  the  grand  secret  in  the  military 
tactics  of  Bonaparte,  by  which   he  overthrew   kingdoms, 
viz.  '  the  art  of  bringing  the  utmost  physical  force  to  bear 
at  once  on  a  single  point.'     Men  who  thus  concentrate 
their  powers,  like  the  warriors  of  the  Corsican  school,  are 
the   men    who    conquer.     Surely,  then,  the    art    of  such 
mental  concentration,  is  worthy  of  the  profound  study  of 
every  scientific  educator.     And  1  can  have  no  doubt,  that 
the   habit  of  contemplating   distinctly,  and  in    a   strong 
light,  the  benefits  to  be  gained  by  the  immediate  pursuits 
of  each  day,  is  one  important  part  of  this  art.     To  write 
upon  these   benefits,  is  the  way  for  the  young   student  to 
see    and    feel  them. — I    may   add,    that   many    powerful 
minds  remain  vacillating  or  indolent  because  they  do  not 
distinctly  see  a  sufficient  object  to  rouse  and   direct  their 
energies ;  and  many  an  one  never  masters  a  single  study, 
simply  because  he  does  not  see  its  use  till  the  time  for  its 
acquisition  is  past. 

The  Minor  Catechisms,  historical  and  doctrinal,  men- 
tioned in  the  above  letter,  were  not  published  separately, 
but  as  parts  of  the  same  work,  The  Evangelical  Primer. 
This  was  his  first  publication  of  any  importance.  It  cost 
him  immense  labor,  for  so  small  a  book.  But  perhaps, 
no  equal  portion  of  his  whole  life,  was  spent  to  better  pur- 
pose.    He  gradually  formed  and   matured  his  plan,  and 


192  EVANGELICAL    PRIMER. 

pursued  it,  year  after  year,  as  his  health  and  other  duties 
would  permit,  with  a  large  portion  of  that  ardor  which 
has  just,  been  mentioned.  It  was  a  standing  theme  of  his 
conversation,  at  home  and  abroad,  when  he  met  with 
those  who  were  interested  in  such  topics  and  from  whom 
he  could  hope  to  gain  a  new  idea  by  way  of  objection  or 
addition  to  any  part  of  the  scheme  he  was  revolving  in  his 
mind.  Some  of  his  friends  became  at  length  almost  tired 
of  the  theme,  and  impatient  for  the  publication.  Little 
did  they  appreciate  the  standard  at  which  he  was  aiming, 
and  the  solicitude  of  a  young  author  for  the  perfection  of 
his  first  attempt.  The  result  has  shown  the  wisdom  of 
his  care,  and  has  amply  rewarded  his  protracted  labors. 
The  work  has  been  very  extensively  used  in  common  and 
sabbath  schools,  and  has  been  studied  with  profit  by  a 
multitude  of  the  youth  of  our  country.  Many  editions 
have  been  called  for,  embracing  in  all,  as  his  publishers 
inform  me,  about  200,000  copies. 

It.  may  be  gratifying  to  some,  to  see  the  following  sketch 
of  the  origin  of  this  work,  as  given  by  his  friend  Rev. 
Mr.  Ellingwood  of  Bath,  Me.,  from  whose  kind  letter  I 
shall  have  occasion  for  further  extracts. 

"  He  established  a  female  bible  class,  the  first  that  I 
ever  heard  of,  in  conducting  which,  he  wrote  questions 
on  slips  of  paper,  and  presented  to  his  pupils  to  be  an- 
swered from  the  scriptures.  This  was  a  work  of  con- 
siderable labor,  and  as  the  questions  multiplied,  he  tran- 
scribed them  into  a  book.  Here  originated  his  Minor 
Doctrinal  and  Historical  Catechism,  which  I  believe  he 
transcribed  nine  times,  before  it  was  ready  for  the  press. 
When  it  was  fitted,  he  repaired  to  Boston  to  make  ar- 
rangements for  printing  it.  He  there  met  with  Dr.  Morse, 
to  whose  inspection  he  submitted  his  plan.  Dr.  M.  ad- 
vised him  to  add  the  Assembly's  Catechism,  and  to  call  it 
a  primer.  Agreeably  to  this  advice,  he  postponed  the 
printing,  and  added  the  Assembly's  Catechism  with  notes 
and  scripture  proofs,  and,  I  believe  a  number  of  cuts. 
Thus  was  produced,  with  great  labor  and  care,  that  valu- 
able little  book,  the  Evangelical  Primer." 

Not  only  has  this  work  been  of  use  in  itself,  but  when 
its  sale  became  great,  amounting  to  40,000  in  one  year 
it  called  forth  a  multitude  of  simitar  publications,  many  of 


MISCELLANEOUS.  193 

which  have  been  very  valuable,  though  they  have  not  en- 
tirely superseded  this. 

The  following  extract  alludes  to  an  agreeable  and  im- 
proving exercise  among  half  a  dozen  classmates  in  col- 
lege. The  plan  originated  from  a  hint  by  my  brother, 
though  he  was  not  acquainted  with  the  details. 

Bcverhj,  March  23,  1C09. 

Beloved  Brother  R. — I  wish  you  to  give  me  a  par- 
ticular history  of  your  Social  Fire  Side,  in  which  I  feel 
exceedingly  interested.  I  wish  to  know  what  are  your 
regulations,  how  you  proceed,  what  subjects  have  em- 
ployed your  social  hours,  and  what  subjects  are  to  be  at- 
tended to  in  future.  Much  will  depend  upon  a  proper  se- 
lection of  subjects.  Variety  may  be  both  pleasing  and 
useful.  With  regard  to  historical  subjects,  may  it  not  be 
useful  to  have  some  regard  to  the  order  of  time. 

Our  meetings  were,  perhaps,  once  a  week.  Each  in- 
dividual in  turn,  gave  an  account  of  his  reading,  whether 
history,  biography,  poetry,  or  any  thing  else.  It  led  us 
to  read  with  more  attention  ;  it  fixed  the  facts  more  deep- 
ly in  the  mind  of  the  reviewer,  while  it  imparted  at  least 
some  knowledge  to  the  hearers ;  and  it  served  to  culti- 
vate a  talent  for  narration.  The  hint  may  be  of  use  to 
youth  of  either  sex,  at  school  or  elsewhere,  who  can  con- 
veniently assemble  in  small  groups,  for  a  pleasant  and  in- 
structive hour.  Perhaps  three  or  four  is  a  sufficiently 
large  number. 

Beverly,  Maij  29,  1809. 

Dear  Brother  R. — My  health  is  very  poor  and  my 
duties  abundant.  I  am  sometimes  forced  to  preach  with 
very  little  study,  and,  I  fear,  with  little  edification  to  my 
candid  hearers.  To  be  sure  they  are  candid,  for  they  do 
not  complain  ;  at  least  they  do  not  complain  to  me.  Some- 
times, however,  I  have  been  enabled  to  preach  much 
better  than  my  hopes,  and  perhaps  better  than  formerly, 
when  I.  studied  much  more.  I  am  more  and  more  con- 
firmed in  favor  of  my  present  method  of  preaching.  Read- 
ing sermons  appears  to  me  a  dull  business,  and  hardly  de- 
serving the  name  of  preaching.  Pulpit  reading  is  the 
death  of  pulpit  eloquence,  at  least  with  regard  to  the 
greater  part  of  preachers.  Here  and  there  one  can  read 
17 


194  EXTEMPORE    PREACHING. 

a  sermon  decently.  Almost  any  body  may  learn  to  de- 
liver a  sermon  extempore,  to  the  edification  of  christians, 
both  learned  and  unlearned.  But  to  learn  to  read  a  ser- 
mon in  a  manner  to  convince,  to  move,  to  persuade  the 
illiterate,  is  what  scarcely  any  one  can  attain.  It.  appears 
to  me  very  wrong  to  make  literary  characters  the  sole 
judges  of  preaching;  or  to  aim  principally  at  edifying 
them  by  preaching.  Much  more  attention  is  requisite  in 
feeding  the  lambs  than  in  feeding  the  sheep:  as  the  lambs 
are  much  the  most  numerous,  and  the  least  capable  of 
feeding  themselves.  Orton  observes  in  a  letter  to  a  young 
clergyman  ;  "  Remember  that  nine-tenths  of  your  audi- 
ence are  children — children  in  knowledge  and  under- 
standing." This  is  a  subject,  which  may  profitably  en- 
gage a  considerable  of  your  attention  :  a  subject  upon 
which  I  should  be  glad  to  lecture  you,  or  rather  to  con- 
verse with  you  three  or  four  hours.  It  is  an  excellent 
subject  for  disputation  in  some  of  your  societies.  I  hope 
you  will  not  think  of  any  other  profession,  than  that  of 
the  ministry.  I  wish  you  to  procure  Maury's  "  Princi- 
ples of  Eloquence  adapted  to  the  pulpit  and  the  bar,"  and 
study  it  through  and  through.  Now  is  the  time  for  you 
to  make  a  business  of  studying  eloquence.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  at  least  one  half  the  excellence  of  the  best  of 
preaching,  and  of  the  best  of  pleading,  and  of  the  best 
of  conversation,  consists  in  eloquence.  No  doubt  it  con- 
stituted nine-tenths  of  Whitefield's.  I  should  think  there- 
fore, that  we  ought  to  study  eloquence  at  least  the  tenth 
part  of  our  time.  All  your  treasures  of  knowledge  and 
understanding,  will  avail  you  little,  very  little,  as  a  min- 
ister or  a  lawyer,  without  eloquence. 

I  have  it  in  contemplation  to  visit  New  Haven  "within 
eight  or  ten  weeks.  One  of  my  principal  objects  is  to  see 
Dr.  Dwight  upon  some  important  business. 

He  accordingly  took  the  proposed  journey  to  Connec- 
ticut; the  "  important  business"  of  which,  in  addition  to 
the  benefit  of  his  health,  was  to  subject  his  Primer  to  the 
inspection  of  Dr.  Dwight  and  others,  for  the  double  pur- 
pose of  obtaining  their  remarks  and  their  recommenda- 
tions, both  of  which  were  readily  given. 

He  always  insisted  in  conversation,  as  he  does  in  this 
letter,  on  the  duty  of  preaching   in  such   a  manner,  that 


EXTEMPORE    PREACHING.  195 

common  hearers  can  understand  the  discourse;  and  he 
remonstrated,  with  equal  justice  and  severity,  against  the 
wicked  vanity  of  introducing  "learned  terms5'  into  a  ser- 
mon. And  what  he  urged  in  theory,  he  exhibited  in 
practice.  Perhaps  he  even  went  to  an  extreme,  in  this 
very  important  article  of  reform,  as  the  power  of  his  dis- 
courses was  sometimes  diminished  in  his  zeal  to  be  per- 
fectly understood  by  the  feeblest  capacity.  His  predilec- 
tion for  extempore  preaching,  was  modified  in  subsequent 
years,  as  already  remarked.  He  was  even  more  opposed 
to  memoriter  preaching,  than  to  mere  reading,  as  he 
thought  it  a  waste  of  time  to  commit  sermons  to  memory, 
and  that  it  tended  to  a  declamatory  and  heartless  deliv- 
ery. Probably  "  the  happy  medium"  is,  for  a  minister 
to  prepare  one  written  discourse,  with  much  care,  for  each 
sabbath  ;  and  to  preach  one  extempore.  Each  will  then 
be  better  than  either  would  probably  be,  were  he  to  con- 
fine himself  exclusively  to  one  mode.  Careful  writing 
will  help  him  to  extemporize  with  more  accuracy  and 
power  ;  and  extemporizing  will  teach  him  to  write  with 
greater  simplicity  and  vivacity.  It  is  also  to  be  remem- 
bered, that  sermons  may  be  written  extempore,  and  may 
partake  of  all  the  faults  of  such  discourses,  with  but  a 
part  of  their  advantages.  Such  is  often  the  fact,  when 
the  pastor,  pressed  with  other  labors,  attempts  to  write 
two  sermons  a  week.  It  is  also  true  of  some,  if  not  of 
all  men,  that  they  can  study  the  matter  and  arrangement 
of  a  sermon  more  thoroughly  in  six  hours  without  writing 
any  thing  more  than  a  pretty  complete  sketch,  than  they 
can  in  twelve  hours  by  writing  the  whole.  The  extem- 
pore discourse  will,  therefore,  be  often  the  most  thorough- 
ly studied,  as  well  as  the  best  delivered  Still  there  is 
danger  that  the  preacher  will  nealcct  to  study  sufficiently 
his  extempore  performances.  Diffident  men  will  be  the 
least  likely  to  trust  themselves  in  the  pulpit  without  due 
preparation  ;  they  may,  therefore,  be  the  more  safely  en- 
couraged in  the  practice  of  extemporizing,  if  endowed 
with  the  requisite  self-posseision. 


CHAPTER    X. 


FROM     HIS     THIRD     MARRIAGE     TO     HIS     DISMISSION     FROM 
HIS    PEOPLE.        1810—1816. 

Infirmity  in  Ms  limbs — Early  zeal  for  foreign  missions — 
Tour  to  Ballstoivn — His  missionary  sermon — Advo- 
cates total  abstinence —  Tour  to  Wiscassci — Interest  in 
revivals — Edits  the  writings  of  Miss  F.  Woodbury — 
visits  Norfolk,  Ct. — Excursions  in  that  region — His 
return  and  dismission. 

Early  in  the  year  1810,  he  was  married  to  Miss  Rebecca 
Hasseltine  of  Bradford,  Mass.  who  still  survives  him. 

Under  date  of  Aug.  27,  1811,  he  thus  writes.  "My 
wrist,  though  a  little  better,  is  still  so  weak  that  I  can 
write  but  a  few  lines.  As  sister  Charlotte  is  very  low,  I 
cannot  attend  your  commencement.*' 

His  sister,  C.  Read,  soon  died  of  the  same  complaint 
that  had  proved  fatal  to  his  second  wife,  whose  example 
she  piously  followed  in  the  work  of  instruction. 

A  singular  infirmity  had  now,  for  some  time,  disabled 
his  right  wrist.  This  will  account  for  the  long  chasm  of 
more  than  two  years  between  the  letters  from  which  I 
quote.  During  most  of  t»liis  period,  he  probably  wrote  but 
very  little.  The  like  infirmity  ere  long,  settled  also  in  his 
left  wrist; — and  then  in  one  of  his  ancles; — and  then  in 
the  other.  Or  rather,  I  may  say,  that  the  constitutional 
maladies  under  which  he  had  long  labored,  concentrated 
their  forces,  in  successive  attacks,  on  these  outposts  of 
his  physical  nature.  Happy  that  they  did  so;  for  had 
they  struck  at  once  at  the  citadel  of  life,  I  fear  we  should 
have  been  left  to  mourn  his  fall,  when  his  more  extensive 
usefulness  was  but  just  begun.  A  slight  sprain  of  the 
limb,  in  an  accident  while  riding,  was  the  signal  for  the 
first  attack.     A  similar  sprain  in  each  of  his  other  limbs, 


INFIRMITIES STENOGRAPHY.  197 

in  distant  succession,  was  apparently  the  occasion  of  each 
successive  assault.  Under  these  accumulating  infirmities, 
he  suffered  exceedingly  for  many  years  ;  nor  was  he  en- 
tirely free  from  them  to  the  day  of  his  death.  They 
baffled  the  skill  of  many  physicians.  Still  his  mind  was 
active  ;  and  perhaps  would  have  been  even  more  so  than 
before  this  distant  location  of  the  unknown  disorder  of 
his  system,  had  he  not  been  curtailed  in  his  customary  ex- 
ercise. Sawing  wood  had  been  one  of  his  favorite  modes 
of  exercise.  Of  this  he  was  totally  deprived  on  the  fail- 
ure of  his  wrist.  He  was  still  more  fond  of  walking  ; 
and,  when  in  vigor,  was  often  seen  rapidly  passing  the 
most  nimble-footed  on  the  side-walks.  Of  this,  too,  he 
was  finally  deprived.  Neither  could  he  longer  take  ex- 
ercise on  horseback,  of  which  he  was  also  fond,  as  his 
limbs  became  too  feeble  to  hold  the  reins.  Numerous 
were  the  expedients  to  which  he  resorted  for  supplying 
what  is  just  as  needful  as  food  to  the  health  of  both  body 
and  mind.  One  of  these  expedients  which  succeeded  be- 
yond expectation,  was  that  of  rocking  backward  and  for- 
ward in  his  chair,  and  swinging  his  arms  at  each  vibra- 
tion. That  effeminate  exercise  of  riding  in  a  chaise, 
(which  was  then,  in  the  declared  opinion  of  President 
Dwight,  becoming  the  disgrace  and  the  slow  death  of 
many  clergymen,)  was  but  a  poor  substitute  for  the  more 
vigorous  action  to  which  he  had  trained  his  muscles. 
Still  he  lived ;  and  was  considerably  efficient  in  study, 
and  the  performance  of  such  parochial  duties  as  he  could 
attend  upon  at  all.  He  had  a  chair  fixed  in  his  pulpit, 
in  which  he  could  easily  sit  while  discharging  the  duties 
of  the  sanctuary.  And  his  diligence  now,  when  thus  ad- 
monished, was  doubled,  if  possible,  in  whatever  his  hand 
found  still  in  his  power.  He  was  among  the  last  of  all 
men  to  avail  himself  of  an  excuse  for  inaction.  The  kind 
sympathy  of  friends  comforted  his  heart  and  cheered  him 
to  labor ;  and  his  invention  was  active  in  finding,  not 
only  employment  to  which  his  restricted  powers  were 
competent,  but  in  contriving  new  means  and  facilities  for 
increasing  his  own  usefulness  and  that  of  others.  In  con- 
sequence of  the  weakness  of  his  wrist,  he  invented,  at  a 
subsequent  period,  a  system  of  stenography,  by  which  he 
saved  about  one  half  the  labor  of  writing.  He  had  once 
been  acquainted  with  a  pretty  common  method  which  is 


198  RECOLLECTION    OF    DATES. 

more  brief;  but  he  deemed  it  too  arbitrary,  and  preferred 
to  cast  himself  on  his  own  resources  for  forming  one  of  a 
more  legible  character.  This  he  used  for  many  years  in 
compositions  for  his  own  eye,  and  in  letters  to  one  or  two 
of  his  friends  who  became  acquainted  with  it.  He  once 
had  the  purpose  of  rendering  it  as  perfect  as  possible, 
and  publishing  it.  But  this  purpose  he  relinquished,  as 
he  became  more  deeply  sensible  of  the  evils  of  writing  in 
a  manner  which  few  understand. 

The  following  is  to  his  brother  at  Holies. 

Beverly,  Nov.  28,  1811. 

My  dear  Brother  W., — I  have  lately  been  thinking 
of  a  plan  which  I  wish  you  to  help  me  execute.  I  think 
it  may  prove  of  some  advantage  to  us  both.  The  object 
is  to  remember  the  dates  of  important  events  that  have 
occurred  since  my  remembrance.  My  plan  is  to  asso- 
ciate them  with  events  that  I  have  witnessed  and  can 
familiarly  recollect.  For  example,  I  can  recollect  of  being 
in  Franklin  in  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1799.  About 
that  time  Gen.  Washington  died.  It  is  very  easy,  there- 
fore, for  me  to  recollect  the  year  of  Gen.  W.'s  death  by 
associating  it  with  my  being  at  Franklin.  My  object  in 
writing  to  you  is  to  ascertain  the  dates  of  a  number 
of  events  that  are  familiar  in  my  mind,  though  1  can- 
not tell  the  respective  dates,  nor  perhaps  the  years  when 
they  took  place.  I  send  them  on  the  inclosed  paper  and 
wish  you  to  annex  the  dates  against  each  respectively,  as 
far  as  you  can  ascertain  them. 

Dec.  12. — Since  writing  the  above  I  have  had  a  fit  of 
sickness,  and  have  been  unable  to  preach  for  two  Sab- 
baths. I  am  now  much  better,  and  hope  to  be  able  to 
preach  next  Sabbath.  My  family  are  in  comfortable 
health. 

The  facts  he  wished  to  ascertain,  respected  chiefly  the 
history  of  his  relatives  and  friends.  He  ever  took  a  deep 
interest  in  whatever  concerned  them,  and,  I  doubt  not, 
gratefully  improved  in  a  religious  manner,  the  past  mercies 
of  God  toward  them.  The  mode  of  associating  the  facts 
which  lie  here  mentions,  is  well  worth  the  consideration 
of  those  who  wish  to   treasure  up  accurately  the   facts  of 


MISSIONARY    SPIRIT.  199 

past  and  passing  life.  Let  them  be  associated  with  facts 
the  dates  of  which  we  cannot  forget :  and  if  many  are  al- 
ready associated  with  some  cardinal  fact,  let  us  ascertain 
and  fix  in  mind  the  date  of  that  fact. 

For  about  three  years  from  the  last  date,  and  while 
pursuing  my  studies  in  the  Seminary  in  this  place,  I  had 
opportunity  to  see  my  brother  more  frequently  than  dur- 
ing any  other  equal  period  after  the  days  of  childhood, 
and  can  therefore  testify,  from  my  own  observation,  to  the 
delightful  ardor  with  which  he  continued  to  prosecute  the 
work  of  doing  good  among  his  own  people  and  to  the 
world  at  large.  Being  frequently  at  his  house,  in  com- 
pany with  others  who  were  in  a  course  of  preparation  for 
the  ministry,  I  witnessed  the  uncommon  degree  of  respect 
and  affection  which  he  exhibited  towards  them,  and  espe- 
cially the  faithfulness  with  which  he  would  take  care  to 
inform  them,  personally  and  through  others,  of  the  par- 
ticulars and  the  manner  in  which  they  might  amend  their 
faults  and  improve  their  excellences.  He  was  deeply 
conscious  of  the  scale  on  which  he  was  doing  good,  while 
contributing  to  make  one,  who  was  to  preach  the  gospel, 
a  little  better  for  his  whole  life.  He  would  think  much  of 
them,  and  pray  much  for  them,  after  their  brief  visit  was 
past ;  and  perhaps,  at  some  subsequent  period,  suggest 
something  further  for  their  improvement  by  letter  or  mes- 
sage. He  always  seemed  inclined  to  look  quite  enough 
on  the  favorable  side,  and  to  indulge  sufficiently  high 
hopes  of  their  future  usefulness.  A  kindred  interest  he 
always  took  in  such  as  were  engaged  in  teaching  schools 
of  any  kind. 

I  can  likewise  bear  testimony  to  the  zeal  with  which  he 
now  devoted  his  influence  to  the  cause  of  missions,  both 
at  home  and  abroad.  A  noble  ardor  was  excited  among 
his  people  at  this  time,  when  the  American  Board  were 
fitting  out  their  first  mission,  and  they  were  easily  promp- 
ted to  do  much  for  its  aid.  Possibly,  both  his  zeal  and 
that  of  his  people,  was  the  more  roused  by  the  circum- 
stance, that  the  lamented  Mrs.  Judson,  a  sister  to  his 
wife,  was  then  much  in  his  family.  When  the  project  of 
foreign  missions  was  started  and  the  American  Board  of 
Commissioners  were  appointed,  he  at  once  threw  his 
whole  soul  into  the  enterprise.  While  many  were  only 
speculating  on  the  scheme,  he  had  begun  to  act  and   to 


200  ADVICE    TO    MRS.    JUDSON. 

rouse  those  about  him;  and  soon  a  goodly  number  of  his 
people  were  glowing  with  apostolic  ardor  in  the  divine 
cause.  Nor  was  his  agency  confined  to  his  own  people, 
or  to  some  temporary  impulse  and  aid.  He  was  called  by 
providential  circumstances,  to  bear  a  part,  as  important 
as  it  was  unobserved,  in  the  practical  decision  of  a  mo- 
mentous and  eventful  question  to  the  cause  of  missions. 
To  present  this  in  its  proper  light,  it  is  needful  to  no- 
tice an  interesting  crisis  in  the  life  of  Mrs.  Judson.  The 
following  paragraph  from  the  pen  of  her  biographer,  will 
exhibit  her  situation  in  respect  to  her  personally  engaging 
in  the  mission. 

"  There  was  another  circumstance  which  greatly  in- 
creased the  difficulty  of  a  decision.  No  female  had  ever 
left  America  as  a  missionary  to  the  heathen.  The  gen- 
eral opinion  was  decidedly  opposed  to  the  measure.  It 
was  deemed  wild  and  romantic  in  the  extreme,  and  alto- 
gether inconsistent  with  prudence  and  delicacy.  Miss  H. 
had  no  example  to  guide  and  allure  her.  She  met  with 
no  encouragement  from  the  greater  part  of  those  persons, 
to  whom  she  applied  for  counsel.  Some  expressed  strong 
disapprobation  of  the  project.  Others  would  give  no  opin- 
ion. Two  or  three  individuals,  whom  it  might  not  be 
proper  to  name,  were  steady,  affectionate  advisers,  and 
encouraged  her  to  go.  With  these  exceptions,  she  was 
forced  to  decide  from  her  own  convictions  of  duty,  and 
her  own  sense  of  fitness  and  expediency." 

It  is  proper  that  I  should  now  say,  that  my  brother 
must  have  been  one  of  these  "  advisers  who  encouraged 
her  to  go."  And  more  than  this ;  I  am  warranted  from 
the  best  authority  to  say,  that  ''probably  he  did  more  for 
this  object  than  any  other  person,  or  than  all  others.  In- 
deed, at  one  time,  it  is  doubtful  whether  she  would  have 
gone  but  for  his  efforts." 

This  was  exactly  an  occasion  for  him  to  appear  as 
steady  and  decided  in  his  counsel,  as  he  was  affectionate 
and  disinterested.  On  the  probable  consequences  of  his 
prompt  decision  in  this  case,  it  is  needless  for  me  to  en- 
large. Who  can  tell  the  consequences  that  may  some- 
times hang  on  a  few  words  of  advice;  I  will  only  add, 
that  Mrs.  Newell  appears  not  to  have  decided  to  go  on  a 
mission,  at  the  time  she  heard  of  Mrs.  J.'s  decision. 


TOUR    TO    BALLSTOWN.  201 

The  first  missionaries  were  ordained  at  Salem  and  em- 
barked from  that  port.  At  that  time,  there  was  a  fervor 
of  "  first  love"  in  the  missionary  cause,  and  towards  the 
persons  of  the  missionaries,  glowing  in  the  breasts  of  such 
as  were  fired  with  the  subject,  which  we  cannot  expect 
again  to  witness.  Sympathy  was  overwhelming;  and  gifts 
flowed  in  abundantly,  both  as  memorial  tokens  and  in 
the  shape  of  more  substantial  aid.  It  may  not  be  out  of 
place  here  to  mention,  as  an  instance,  that  one  evening, 
just  before  the  embarkation,  a  purse  of  fifty  dollars  in 
specie  was  cast  in  at  the  door  of  my  brother's  dwelling, 
by  an  unknown  hand,  with  the  label,  "For  Mr.  Jud- 
son's  private  use." 

The  following  extracts  from  letters  to  his  wife,  will 
mark  his  route  on  one  of  his  many  journeys  for  the  recov- 
ery of  his  health. 

Westfteld,  June  2G,  1812.— Friday. 

Most  of  my  way  from  Beverly  to  Leicester,  seemed 
dreary,  and  I  proceeded  sorrowing.  The  most  beautiful 
prospects,  such  as  a  few  days  before  I  had  so  delightful- 
ly shared  with  you,  could  scarcely  attract  my  attention. 
My  cold  was  distressing,  and  I  often  found  myself  much 
more  fatigued  by  riding,  than  I  had  anticipated.  The 
feelings,  with  which  I  passed  that  way  more  than  three 
years  ago,  were  almost  perpetually  recurring,  and  filling 
my  mind  with  gloom,  which  no  consideration  could  dis- 
pel. It  seemed  utterly  in  vain  for  me  to  reflect  that 
Eleanor  and  Charlotte  are  now  unspeakably  happy;  and 
that  my  Rebecca  was  no  less  endeared  to  my  heart,  and 
no  less  qualified  to  make  me  useful  and  happy  than  my 
Eleanor.  Grief  was  associated  with  every  known  object ; 
and  it  was  to  no  purpose  for  me  to  prove  to  myself  that 
I  had  no  cause  to  grieve.  Had  I  anticipated  such  an 
effect,  I  should  have  taken  another  road.  My  friends, 
however,  at  Framingham,  Worcester,  and  Leicester,  I 
met  with  cheerfulness  and  enjoyed  their  conversation 
highly. 

On  this  side  of  L.  I  have  for  the  most  part  been  hap- 
py. 1  have  had  a  new  road,  better  health,  and  very  little 
fatigue.  Other  circumstances,  also,  have  been  highly 
Conducive  to  my  gratification.  I  proceeded  from  Brim- 
field  to  this  place,  as  I  proposed  in  my  letter  written  at 


202  TOUR    TO    BALLSTOWN. 

Brimfield.    What  I  have  here  witnessed,  has  been  exceed- 
ingly interesting  and  delightful. 

The  General  Association  have  finished  their  session 
for  this  year;  and  there  is  scarcely  a  minister  left  in  town. 
I  have  concluded  to  stay  and  preach  for  Mr.  Knapp,  min- 
ister of  this  place,  a  very  dear  brother  about  my  age,  who 
is  unable  to  preach,  and  is  threatened  with  consump- 
tion. 

WUliamstown,  July  2,  1812. —  Thursday. 

If  my  wrist  were  perfectly  well,  I  would  attempt  to  give 
you  some  description  of  the  delightful  way  from  Pittsfield 
to  Williamstown,  among  the  mountains  and  over  the 
mountains. 

I  am  now  with  President  Fitch,  who  is  writing  upon 
the  same  table.  He  has  received  and  treated  us  with  re- 
markable kindness.  His  heart  appears  much  engaged  in 
the  glorious  work  of  grace,  which  the  Lord  has  for  sev- 
eral months  been  carrying  on  in  this  place.  It  is  hoped 
that  about  thirty  of  the  students  and  forty  of  the  inhabit- 
ants, have  been  converted  within  three  months.  This  is 
more  delightful,  than  the  alarm  of  war  is  distressing. 
We  have  reason  to  sing  of  mercy  as  well  as  of  judgment. 
Let  us  thank  God  and  take  courage.  Let  us  daily  and 
fervently  commend  our  dear  country  to  the  mercy  of 
Him  ''who  rides  upon  the  stormy  sky,  and  manages  the 
sea" — who  can  bring  order  out  of  confusion,  light  out  of 
darkness,  and  peace  out  of  war.  Let  us  trust  in  Him 
and  not  be  afraid,  though  the  earth  be  removed  and  the 
mountains  carried  into  the  depths  of  the  sea.  God  is 
doing  wonders  for  his  church,  though  his  judgments  are 
abroad  in  the  earth. 

Ballslown,  Jidyl,  1812. —  Tuesday. 

I  do  not  find  myself  quite  so  well  as  I  had  anticipated 
from  riding  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  I  have  there- 
fore concluded,  to  spend  a  few  days  in  this  place,  to  try 
the  influence  of  these  celebrated  waters  upon  my  nerves. 
I  arrived  here  yesterday,  after  riding  about  fifteen  miles  in 
very  hot  and  dusty  weather.  Being  languid  and  thirsty,  I 
drank  more  than  a  pint  of  spring  water.  It  was  not  very 
palatable,  nor  indeed  very  disagreeable.  But  I  was  still 
too  languid  to  write  to  my  dearest  friend.  To-day,  I  feel 
considerably  better ;  which  I  impute  at  least  in  some 
measure  to  using  the  water  in  drinking  and  bathing.     I 


MISSIONARY    SERMON.  203 

am  confident  the  warm  bath  has  rendered  perspiration 
more  easy  and  abundant.  To-day,  I  drink  with  pleasure. 
I  shall  probably,  go  to  Granville  in  about  a  week,  make 
a  very  short  visit  there,  and  then  hasten  to  my  dear  people 
and  dear  family  as  fast  as  possible,  consistently  with 
health. 

Shrewsbury,    Vt.  July  14,  1812. 

I  left  Granville  yesterday  ;  and  am  now  near  the  foot 
of  the  green  mountains  on  the  west  side.  My  health  is 
much  as  when  I  wrote  last  from  Ballstown.  If  the  weather 
should  be  favorable,  you  may  begin  to  expect  me  by  the 
middle  of  next  week. 

His  zeal  for  domestic  missions,  instead  of  being  divert- 
ed and  absorbed  by  that  so  recently  excited  for  the  perish- 
ing abroad,  continued  to  flow  in  a  deepening  torrent.  Of 
this,  he  has  left  us  an  adequate  proof  in  his  sermon  be- 
fore the  Massachusetts  Missionary  Society,  at  their  four- 
teenth annual  meeting  at  Boston,  May  25,  1813.  A 
large  edition  of  this  sermon  was  printed  and  extensively 
circulated  by  Mr.  Armstrong,  in  the  form  of  a  tract ;  and 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  its  effects  are  still  deeply 
though  silently  felt  in  another  great  department  of  useful- 
ness beside  that  of  missions.  I  must,  therefore,  take  the 
liberty  to  dwell  a  moment  on  this  little  production. 

The  sermon  is  from  the  text,  "  Gather  up  the  frag- 
ments," etc.,  and  is  entitled,  "  Christian  Economy."  He 
here  forcibly  inculcates  the  duty  of  saving  property  for 
benevolent  purposes ;  and  that  in  such  a  manner  as  is  fit- 
ted to  make  the  miser  feel,  that  it  is  "  blessed  to  give;" 
and  the  prodigal,  that  it  is  blessed  to  save  ;  and  the  idler, 
that  it  is  blessed  to  toil,  for  the  cause  of  christian  benevo- 
lence. The  other  department  of  usefulness  to  which  I  re- 
fer, is  the  cause  of  temperance ;  and  that  precisely  on  the 
principle  of  total  abstinence,  since  so  widely  adopted  and 
so  gloriously  triumphant,  but  then  scarcely  dreampt  of  by 
any  individual,  and  publicly  advocated  by  none,  to  my 
knowledge.  After  urging  this  principle  with  delicacy,  yet 
with  power,  and  that  by  the  same  arguments  now  so  com- 
mon, he  thus  addresses  his  brethren  in  the  churches,  and 
in  the  ministry.  "  My  friends,  let  us  try  the  experiment. 
Can  we  not  abstain  with  honor,  with  comfort,  and  with 
the   certainty  of   saving   something   for  purposes   of  the 


204  TEMPERANCE. 

greatest  importance?  But  if  any  cannot  comfortably  ab- 
stain, that  circumstance  should  operate  as  an  additional 
motive,  should  fill  them  with  alarm,  and  rouse  them  to  the 
most  vigorous  efforts  to  break  in  sunder  the  bonds  with 
which  Satan  is  binding  them." 

What  eifect  this  part  of  the  discourse,  consisting  of  sev- 
eral pages,  may  have  had  in  preparing  the  way  for  the 
temperance  society,  some  years  after,  and  in  the  glorious 
revolution  now  in  progress,  it  is  not  needful  for  us  to  know 
in  this  world.  Great  efforts  had  indeed  already  been 
made  to  suppress  intemperance,  and  many  had  come  into 
the  habit  of  stipulating  with  laborers  in  their  employ,  to 
work  without  being  furnished  with  ardent  spirits.  But 
the  glorious  discovery  that  was  to  work  the  greatest  won- 
der of  our  day,  was  the  simple  principle  here  laid  down, 
that  man  needs  no  ardent  spirit. 

I  do  not  claim  for  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  the 
honor  of  being  the  first  or  the  only  one  to  make  this  dis- 
covery. It  is  natural  enough,  amid  such  a  train  of  ope- 
rations, that  divine  providence  should  bring  many  to  make 
it  independently  of  each  other.  Still  he  was,  perhaps, 
the  first,  to  make  a  public  proclamation  of  the  true  prin- 
ciple. It  was  about  a  year  and  a  half  from  this  time, 
that  Rev.  Mr.  Cornelius  formed  the  small  local  society,  on 
the  principle  of  total  abstinence,  which  we  find  noticed 
in  his  memoir,  p.  38.  A  much  longer  time  elapsed  be- 
fore the  formation  of  the  general  society. — During  this 
period,  he  was  extremely  feeble,  and  sometimes  unable 
to  preach. 

The  following  to  Mrs.  E.  are  notices  of  a  tour  to  visit 
his  friends  and  relatives  in  Maine. 

Balh,  Jane  27,  1814.— Monday. 
Having  lodged  successively  at  Newburyport,  Ports- 
mouth, Kennebunk,  Portland,  and  Brunswick,  I  arrived 
here  Saturday,  near  noon.  Thus  far,  God  has  made  my 
journey  pleasing  and  prosperous.  My  health  appears  to 
be  improved.  My  cough,  however,  was  no  better,  but 
rather  worse  (in  consequence  of  taking  more  cold)  till 
yesterday  ;  when  I  was  enabled  to  preach  with  much  less 
inconvenience  and  more  satisfaction,  than  I  had  antici- 
pated.    This   morning  I   feel    better  than   usual    before 


REVIVAL  IN  YALE  COLLEGE.  ETC.         205 

breakfast.  I  hope  my  wrist  has  gained  a  little.  This 
afternoon  I  expect  to  go  to  Wiscasset  in  the  stage,  to  stay 
one  or  two  nights. 

Bath,  Jtihj  4,  1814. 

As  writing  my  letter  last  Monday  was  probably  inju- 
rious to  my  wrist,  you  will  not  be  grieved  at  the  shortness 
of  this.  I  hope  my  health  is  considerably  improved.  I 
preached  yesterday  with  less  inconvenience  than  for  sev- 
eral preceding  Sabbaths.  I  fondly  anticipate  the  happi- 
ness of  returning  to  those,  who  are  most  dear  to  my  heart, 
in  the  course  of  next  week. 

Portsmouth,  July  11,  1814. 

In  great  mercy  the  Lord  has  favored  me  with  better 
health  since  I  wrote  last,  than  for  many  weeks  preceding. 
I  fear,  however,  that  my  wrist  is  no  better.  I  preached 
yesterday  in  this  place,  once  only,  and  administered  the 
Lord's  supper.  I  anticipate  much  satisfaction  in  relating 
to  you  the  history  of  my  journey  after  my  return. 

The  interest  he  always  took  in  revivals  of  religion,  was 
as  intense  as  it  was  rational  and  free  from  fanaticism.  He 
thus  speaks,  in  a  letter  to  me,  respecting  a  revival  in 
Yale  College. 

Beverhj,  Maij2,  1Q15. 

The  revival  in  your  college  has  gladdened  our  souls 
beyond  expression.     Even  so,  come  Lord  Jesus. 

I  should  write  more  ;  bur  I  fear  I  have  injured  my 
wrist  already.     It  is  weaker  than  when  I  began. 

My  reason  for  writing  to  Mr.  Ingersoll,  was  very  ur- 
gent. Many  complain  of  the  Panoplist,  because  it  con- 
tains so  little  concerning  revivals.  I  have  rarely  read  or 
heard  any  thing  more  interesting  than  his  letter. 

Mr.  Ingersoll  had  given  an  account  of  this  revival  to 
his  friends  in  Beverly.  Mr.  I.  though  an  undergraduate, 
was  exceedingly  useful  in  that  revival.  Indeed,  he  was 
a  man  possessed  of  so  rare  a  combination  of  excellences, 
that  he  could  hardly  fail  of  being  very  useful  in  any  con- 
dition. So  much  good  sense,  well-tempered  zeal,  affa- 
bility, and  sweetness  of  temper,  are  rarely  seen  in  combi- 
nation. After  his  conversion,  he  left  the  command  of  a 
vessel,  obtained  a  liberal  education,  settled  in  the  gospel 
ministry  at  Shrewsbury,  Mass.,  and  soon  left  his  very  en- 
18 


206  LETTER   TO    MR.    INGERSOLL. 

deared  friends  and  endeared  people,  for  better  scenes 
above.  I  must  not  say  more,  and  could  not  say  less,  of 
one  so  dear  to  my  heart  and  to  the  heart  of  my  brother. 
Some  further  account  of  him,  and  also  of  this  revival, 
may  be  seen,  in  the  Memoir  of  Mr.  Cornelius,  p.  33.  I 
subjoin  my  brother's  letter  to  Mr.  Ingersoll. 

Beverly,  May  2,  1815. 

Your  letter  of  April  1,  has  been  read  and  heard  by 
many  with  very  deep  interest,  and,  1  hope,  edification. 
Are  you  not  willing  it  should  be  more  extensively  useful 

by  publication?     Dr.  G.  and ,  and  others  who   have 

seen  it,  think  it  ought  to  be  published  in  the  Panoplist. 
I  have  no  doubt  the  editor  would  gladly  publish  it,  with, 
perhaps,  some  small  verbal  alterations.  You  may  be  sur- 
prised that  I  should  think  of  publishing  a  letter  written  in 
so  much  hsste.  But  such  hasty  effusions  may  sometimes 
be  much  more  interesting  and  useful  than  more  labored 
compositions.  You  may  possibly  have  some  scruples  of 
delicacy  upon  the  subject.  But  such  scruples  must  often 
yield,  where  the  cause  of  Christ  is  concerned.  You  have 
long  felt,  and  I  trust  most  deeply  and  delightfully  felt, 
that  you  are  not  your  own.  Your  soul,  your  tongue,  your 
pen,  your  all,  you  have  devoted  to  Jesus,  again  and  again. 
If  your  dear  Lord  seems  to  have  need  of  one  of  your  let- 
ters for  publication,  surely  you  cannot  withhold  it,  how- 
ever unworthy  it  may  appear  in  your  estimation.  You 
need  not  fear  that  Mr.  Evarts  would  publish  any  thing 
that  ought  not  to  be  published. 

Let  me  earnestly  entreat  you,  my  beloved  brother,  to 
be  careful  of  your  health.  May  the  Lord  be  with  you, 
and  bless  you,  and  make  you  abundantly  fruitful  in  good 
works. 

Perhaps  it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  my  brother, 
amid  all  his  cares  to  preserve  a  frail  life,  was  at  least 
equally  careful  to  devote  every  portion  of  that  life  to  some 
useful  purpose.  To  this  end,  he  watched  as  well  as 
prayed.  Nor  was  his  prayer  in  vain.  The  great  Author 
of  all  beneficence,  is  ever  as  ready  to  furnish  suitable 
employment  to  those  who  delight  in  his  service,  as  the  in- 
stigator of  evil  is  prompt  to  keep  all  others  busy  for  him. 
Accordingly,  when  disabled  for  one  species  of  labor,  my 


FANNY    WOODBURY.  207 

brother  seems  to  have  found  another  to  supply  its  place. 
One  among  the  many  instances  of  this  kind,  is  found  in 
the  period  now  under  review,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  fol- 
lowing brief  notice. 

It  had  been  his  delight,  for  a  year  or  two  before,  oc- 
casionally to  impart  instruction  to  one  of  the  most  vigor- 
ous youthful  minds  that  have  been  found  in  our  female 
circles.  She  was  still  more  distinguished  for  the  fervor  of 
her  piety, and  the  very  practical  cast  of  all  her  views,  deep 
as  they  were,  on  the  doctrines  of  religion.  I  speak  of 
Miss  Fanny  Woodbury.  Though  a  member  of  the  second 
church  in  Beverly,  and  thus  not  under  his  immediate 
care,  yet  circumstances  had  red  her  to  apply  to  him  to 
guide  her  reading  and  to  impart  his  counsel  for  the  in- 
crease of  her  improvement  and  usefulness.  But  God  had 
now  seen  fit,  in  the  previous  November,  to  remove  this 
gifted  spirit  to  its  higher  sphere  above.  Her  writings 
were  placed  in  his  hands,  with  the  urgent  request,  that 
he  would  select  and  publish  such  of  them  as  he  should 
judge  best.  This  he  did  ;  and  the  result  was  the  small 
volume,  entitled  Writings  of  Miss  Fanny  Woodbury, 
who  died  at  Beverly,  Nov.  15,  1814,  aged  23  years,  se- 
lectcd  and  edited  by  Joseph  Emerson.  Thus,  when  una- 
ble to  write  himself,  he  was  very  usefully  occupied  in 
selecting  and  giving  to  the  public,  the  writings  of  another. 
This  work  has  been  extensively  read,  and  well  deserves 
a  place  in  the  library  of  every  young  lady  in  our  land.  If 
less  filled  with  engrossing  incidents  than  some  other 
works  of  the  kind,  yet  few,  if  any,  will  be  found  more 
deeply  fraught  with  sound  instruction,  or  more  thoroughly 
imbued  with  the  practical  spirit  of  the  gospel  truth. 

Concerning  his  health,  etc.  he  thus  wrote  to  me — 

Bererhj,  July  6,  1815. 

I  have  great  reason  to  be  thankful,  however,  that  my 
health  in  general  is  considerably  better  than  it  was  a 
year  ago ;  although  it  has  pleased  the  Lord  to  visit  me 
with  a  judgment  in  rendering  my  left  wrist  nearly  as  fee- 
ble as  my  right.  Never  before  was  I  so  deeply  sensible  of 
the  great  blessing  that  those  enjoy  who  are  favored  with 
sound  and  vigorous  limbs.  But  upon  examination  I  find, 
I  have  a  thousand  times  more  reason  to  sing  of  mercy 
than  of  judgment.     I  have  reason  to  bless  the  Lord  that 


30S  MISCELLANEOUS. 

my  indisposition  is  in  my  hands  rather  than  in  my  feet,  or 
my  lungs,  or  my  voice,  or  my  eyes,  or  my  ears,  or  my 
head  :  nay,  I  have  reason  for  gratitude  that  this  affliction 
is  sent  upon  me  rather  than  upon  my  dear  companion,  to 
whom  the  calamity  would  have  been  much  greater.  It 
becomes  us  not  only  to  submit  without  a  murmur,  but  to 
rejoice  that  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth.  Although 
I  have  many  dark  and  desponding  hours,  I  sometimes 
hope  that  I  can  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  and  joy  in  the  rock 
of  my  salvation. 

July  29. — Since  writing  the  above,  I  have  addressed 
a  meeting  at  Boston  for  the  purpose  of  forming  a  society 
to  assist  pious  and  indigent  young  men,  in  obtaining  an 
education  with  a  view  to  the  ministry.  We  have  not  ac- 
tually formed  the  society,  but  have  made  such  arrange- 
ments, that  probably,  within  a  few  weeks,  it  will  be  form- 
ed on  a  large  scale.  I  exceedingly  rejoice  in  what  you 
are  doing  for  this  important  object  in  Connecticut.  May 
the  Lord  be  with  you  and  greatly  exceed  your  most  san- 
guine expectations.  And  I  am  confident  he  will  be  with 
you.  I  believe  there  has  never  before  been  a  time  since 
the  foundation  of  the  world,  in  which  so  much  good 
might  be  done  with  so  little  exertion.  While  the  Lord  is 
thus  manifestly  at  work,  what  encouragement  have  we  to 
be  up  and  doing. 

At  this  period,  he  resided  for  some  time  at  Reading, 
under  the  care  of  Dr.  Phelps,  whence  he  writes  to  his 
wife,  under  date  of  Oct.  26,  1815. 

I  trust  my  health  has  improved  a  few  degrees  since  I 
saw  you.  We  must  take  heed,  however,  that  our  hopes 
of  my  recovery  be  not  too  much  raised.  With  resigna- 
tion and  cheerfulness,  we  must  submit  the  matter  to  Him, 
who  is  infinite  in  goodness,  and  perfect  in  knowledge.  I 
trust  1  have  received  mercies  in  answer  to  the  prayers, 
not  only  of  my  dear  friends  in  Beverly,  but  of  the  good 
people  in  this  place,  whose  prayers  I  have  several  times 
publicly  requested. 

The  next  summer,  my  brother  being  very  feeble,  it  was 
judged  expedient  that  he  should  leave  the  sphere  of  his 
cares  and  labors,  and  accompany  me  to  Norfolk  in  Con- 
necticut, where   I  was   about  to  take   the  charge   of  an 


VISIT    TO    CONNECTICUT.  2C9 

affectionate  and  hospitable  people.  The  region  was  ele- 
vated and  healthful ;  the  scenery,  variegated,  deeply  in- 
teresting to  a  studious  and  contemplative  mind,  and  quite 
diverse  to  what  had  commonly  met  his  eye.  Much  hope 
was  cherished  for  the  benefit  of  such  a  change  ;  and  I 
must  be  allowed  to  add,  that  not  a  little  delight  was  ex- 
perienced, on  my  part,  in  the  prospect  of  ministering  to 
my  brother's  comfort,  and  of  enjoying  his  society,  and  his 
counsel,  especially  at  so  interesting  and  critical  a  period 
as  that  of  first  assuming  the  vast  responsibilities  of  the 
pastoral  office. 

We  left  the  place  of  his  nativity  in  an  open  chaise, 
though  he  was  but  poorly  able  to  bear  the  exposure  to  the 
unexpected  severity  of  the  elements.  The  following  ex- 
tracts are  from  letters  to  his  wife. 

Norfolk,  Conn.  June  8,  181G. 

You  will  be  gratified,  and  I  hope,  no  less  thankful, 
that  I  am  safely  here.  We  arrived  last  evening  about 
sunset,  after  riding  from  Hartford,  about  35  miles.  For 
two  days  we  have  faced  a  very  strong  wind,  and  remark- 
ably cold  for  the  season.  I  have  taken  some  cold  ;  but 
not  so  bad  as  I  feared  yesterday.  On  the  whole,  I  am 
encouraged  to  hope,  that  my  health  is  improved  since  I 
left  Holies. 

June  15. — I  am  almost  entirely  free  from  every  symp- 
tom and  effect  of  a  cold,  except  that  my  left  ancle  is  a 
little  swelled.  I  have  two  or  three  times  tried  the  ex- 
periment of  riding  on  horseback,  and  with  better  success 
in  one  respect  than  I  dared  to  hope.  I  can  manage 
the  reins  with  my  arms  much  better  than  I  supposed, 
and  find  the  exercise  delightful.  My  hope  of  obtaining  a 
cure,  however,  by  means  of  this  exercise,  is  rather  di- 
minished. The  more  I  consider  my  disease,  the  more  ob- 
stinate it  appears.  I  desire,  however,  to  be  thankful  that 
I  can  say,  that  '  hitherto  the  Lord  has  helped  me  ;'  and 
my  heart  glows  with  unusual  gratitude  to  those  dear 
brethren,  and  sisters,  and  friends,  whose  prayers  and 
kind  ofiices  have  been  instrumental  of  this  divine  help. 
I  find  this  land  of  strangers  a  land  of  christian  friends — 
of  friends  indeed  !  They  are  as  kind  as  my  dear  Rebec- 
ca can  wish  ;  and  I  am  as  happy  as  you  can  easilv  imag- 
ine, when  you  consider  my  distance  from  my  beloved  fam- 
ily, and  the  destitute  condition  of  my  dear  peonie. 
18* 


210  VISIT    TO    CONNECTICUT. 

When  we  arrived  in  Norfolk,  my  brother  was  at  once 
received  into  the  family  of  our  munificent  friend,  Joseph 
Battell,  Esq.  where  he  gratuitously  received  every  possi- 
ble attention  during  his  stay  with  us.  Occasionally,  he 
made  excursions  to  neighboring  towns,  for  a  few  days,  as 
will  appear   from   his   letters. 

Sheffield,  (Mass.)  June  25,  1816. 

Yours  of  the  17th  inst.  was  exceedingly  interesting 
on  more  accounts  than  one.  I  longed  to  be  among  my 
dear  people,  and  if  possible  do  something  for  their  im- 
mortal welfare — or,  at  least,  to  stand  still  and  see  the  sal- 
vation of  the  Lord.  But  I  desire  to  rejoice,  that  the 
Lord  can  carry  on  his  work  by  such  means  as  he  chooses; 
and  is  not  dependent  upon  my  poor  exertions,  for  the  ad- 
vancement of  his  kingdom. 

I  came  here  yesterday  from  Norfolk — a  very  level, 
smooth,  and  pleasant  ride  of  about  twelve  miles.  I  had 
calculated  to  go  to  South  Canaan,  Conn,  to-day,  to  attend 
a  meeting  of  the  Moral  Society,  in  that  region  ;  but  it  is 
rainy,  and  I  must  keep  house.  I  am  with  Mr.  Bradford, 
the  minister  of  the  place,  where  I  shall  feel  quite  at 
ease,  even  if  I  should  be  detained  two  or  three  days.  I  re- 
ceive abundant  kindness  wherever  I  go.  I  am  more  and 
more  pleased  with  the  good  people  in  this  hilly  region, 
and  more  and  more  rejoice  that  I  have  come  among  them. 

Norfolk,  July  3,  1816. 

The  weather  detained  me  at  Sheffield  several  days, 
and  occasioned  a  cold,  in  consequence  of  which  I  have 
not  been  quite  so  well  since.  Within  a  k\v  days,  it  seems 
to  have  settled  down  into  my  left  ancle,  which  has  been 
considerably  swelled,  and  at  times  painful.  I  do  not  now 
consider  it  prudent  to  ride  any,  nor  to  walk  more  than 
three  or  four  rods  at  a  time  ;  nor,  indeed,  to  sit  up  more 
than  about  six  hours  in  twenty-four.  Both  my  wrists  have 
gained  considerably  ;  and  1  hope  my  poor  ancle  will  be 
better  in  a  few  days.  My  digestion,  and  my  health  gen- 
erally, is  manifestly  improved.  In  great  mercy  I  am  fa- 
vored with  almost  uninterrupted  cheerfulness;  and  am  at 
this  moment  almost  entirely  free  from  anxiety,  except 
what  arises  from  the  fear  that  this  letter  will  give  you 
more  pain  than  pleasure. 


VISIT    TO    CONNECTICUT.  21 1 

I  attended  ordination,  and  have  heard  every  sermon  that 
has  been  preached  in  my  brother's  meeting  house  since 
I  have  been  here,  except  one  which  was  preached  in  the 
evening  I  see  him  almost  every  day.  His  books,  which 
he  purchased  of  me,  have  arrived  ;  and  you  may  well  sup- 
pose, that  it  affords  me  a  kind  of  satisfaction — a  melan- 
choly satisfaction,  to  meet,  among  these  distant  hills  and 
rocks,  so  many  of  my  dear  old  Beverly  friends — with 
whom  I  have  spent  so  many  delightful  and  profitable 
hours — friends  who  have  given  me  so  much  good  counsel, 
advice  and  instruction — friends  alas!  that  are  mine  no 
more  !  But,  blessed  be  God,  I  have  friends  in  Beverly, 
who  are  dearer  still,  friends,  whom,  I  trust,  poverty  will 
never  alienate — friends  whom  1  hope  to  enjoy  for  ever — 
and  if  I  am  not  deceived,  I  have  a  friend  in  heaven 
dearer  than  all. 

Since  I  came  to  this  place,  I  have  rode  on  the  sad- 
dle more  than  a  hundred  miles ;  in  two  or  three  instances, 
about  twenty  miles  in  a  day.  I  have  found  the  exercise 
very  salutary  and  delightful  ;  but  it  is  possible  it  may  have 
been  injurious  to  my  ancle. 

July  4. — 1  hope,  that  at  times,  I  am  enabled  to  sub- 
mit with  patience,  and  with  something  more  than  pa- 
tience, to  the  sovereign  holy  Hand,  that  corrects  me.  O 
I  need  correction,  I  need  much  more  correction.  O 
Lord,  do  with  me  and  to  me,  as  seemeth  good  in  thy 
sight.  But,  whatever  may  be  my  lot,  have  mercy  upon 
my  beloved  family — have  mercy  upon  my  dear  people. 

Though  for  a  few  days,  my  bodily  health  has  been 
rather  declining,  yet  I  hope  my  spiritual  health  has  been 
reviving;  and  that  1  have  been  enabled  with  more  earn- 
estness and  comfort,  to  commend  my  dear  wife,  children, 
friends  and  people  to  Him  who  heareth  prayer — to  Him 
who  is  able  to  do  for  them  more  than  I  can  ask.  O  let  us 
be  more  importunate  and  more  abundant  in  pleading  for 
our  children.  We  know  not  how  soon  we  shall  be  de- 
prived of  the  privilege  of  praying  for  them.  One  is  not. 
Dear  Edwin  !  he  seems  more  and  more  pleasant,  precious, 
and  desirable  every  day.  How  soon  may  N,  and  L,  and 
A,  be  snatched  away  !   and  we  be  written  childless  ! 

The  books  of  which  my  brother  speaks,  were  a  part  of 
his  long-loved  library,  which    he    thought    it   needful  to 


212  VISIT    TO    CONNECTICUT. 

sell,  as  his  pecuniary  prospects  were  now  becoming  dark. 
With  his  feelings  and  associations,  scarcely  any  earthly 
trial  could  have  been  so  great  to  him.  He  retained,  how- 
ever, many  of  his  most  valuable  books;  and  at  a  subse- 
quent period,  and  in  better  circumstances,  he  indulged 
his  predilections  for  some  of  these  "  old  friends,"  by  pur- 
chasing back  again  the  folios  of  Baxter,  etc. 

I  may  here  remark,  that,  commonly,  he  appeared  to 
feel  not  the  least  anxiety  respecting  his  pecuniary  con- 
cerns. He  was  economical,  indeed,  but  it  was  from  reli- 
gious principle,  not  from  the  love  of  gain,  or  the  fear  of 
want.  Yet  in  one  or  two  trying  scenes  of  his  life,  his 
fears  were  at  least  sufficiently  excited.  The  present  was 
one  of  those  instances. 

Norfolk,  July  16,  1816. 

Yesterday  I  was  much  delighted  to  see  our  dear 
friend  Mr.  Ingersoll.  He  looks  in  better  health  than  I 
have  seen  him  before  since  he  commenced  his  studies. 
He  came  eighteen  miles  on  purpose  to  make  us  a  visit  of 
two  or  three  hours ;  but  concluded  to  stay  all  night, 
(though  very  inconvenient  for  him,)  with  the  expectation 
that  I  should  return   with  him  to  Litchfield  to  day." 

Mr.  I.  has  been  before  mentioned  as  a  member  of  Yale 
College,  whence  he  had  taken  an  excursion  to  Litchfield, 
and  came  from  that  place  to  visit  us.  A  part  of  a  post- 
script by  him,  is  subjoined. 

My  deaii  Mrs.  Emerson, — Your  husband  has  kindly 
offered  me  a  part  of  his  paper,  and  a  seat  at  his  table, 
which  I  joyfully  occupy.  At  Litchfield,  I  heard  that  my 
dear  Mr.  Emerson  of  Beverly,  was  with  his  brother  here  ; 
and  this  determined  me  to  prosecute  my  original  design  of 
visiting  Norfolk.  I  rejoice  to  find  Mr.  E.  so  well.  1  tell 
him,  and  verily  believe  that  he  has  improved  fifty  per 
cent  since  I  saw  him  last  Fall.  His  design  is  to  accom- 
pany me  to  Litchfield  on  a  visit.  We  shall  begin  our 
ride  in  a  few  minutes.  My  health  was  never  better — 
please  say  this  to  my  beloved  mother  and  sisters  ;  and  that 
I  shall  soon  write  to  them  from  New  Haven,  where  I  ex- 
pect to  be  on  the  18th. 

Sincerely  and  respectfully  yours, 

Samuel  B.  Ingersoll. 


VISIT    TO    CONNECTICUT.  213 

Litchfield,  South  Farms,  July  20,  1816. 

I  came  to  L.  with  Mr.  Ingersoll,  on  Tuesday,  and  staid 
three  days  with  Mr.  Beecher.  My  visit  there  was  very 
pleasant.  He  has  eleven  young  ladies  boarding  in  his 
family,  of  whom  ten  have  hope  that  they  are  interested  in 
Christ.  Be  assured,  my  dear,  it  is  a  pleasant  sight  to  see 
such  an  amiable  little  flock,  and  bow  with  them  at  the 
family  altar. 

I  am  now  at  Mr.  Pettengill's,  five  miles  south  of  Mr. 
Beeeher's.  I  expect  to  remain  here  a  few  days,  and  then 
to  visit  Warren,  in  compliance  with  pressing  invitations. 
I  feel  as  much  at  home  here  in  Connecticut  as  you  can 
easily  imagine.  I  find  dear  christian  friends  wherever  I 
go.  My  health  appears  to  be  improving,  though  very 
slowly. 

July  26. — I  am  spending  a  few  days  with  Mr.  Pierpont, 
three  miles  east  of  the  meeting  house.  Though  a  total 
stranger,  he  invited  and  brought  me  to  his  house,  where  I 
am  treated  in  the  true  Connecticut  style — with  unaffected 
and  abundant  kindness.  The  Lord  reward  them  a  thou- 
sand fold.     To-morrow  I  expect  to  go  to  Bethlem. 

Bcthkm,  July  28.  Sab.  eve. — 1  am  now  with  Mr. 
Langdon,  minister  of  this  place,  a  very  pious  and  amiable 
young  man,  who  was  tutor  with  my  brother  at  Yale  Col- 
lege. To-morrow  I  expect  to  go  with  Mr.  Langdon  to 
Danbury,  the  place  of  his  nativity.  I  have  some  hope 
that  the  journey  will  prove  conducive  to  my  health.  1  am 
not  able  to  ride  on  horseback  but  a  few  rods  at  a  time. 

This  excellent  man,  Mr.  L.,  is  also  gone  to  his  rest. 

Warren,  August  3,  1316. 
I  have  been  absent  from  Norfolk,  wandering  from  place 
to  place,  nearly  three  weeks.  This  week  I  have  been  to 
Danbury.  near  the  south-west  corner  of  the  State.  Yes- 
terday I  returned  to  Litchfield,  South  Farms,  where  I  had 
the  satisfaction  to  find  a  letter  from  my  dear  Rebecca. 

Norfolk,  Aus;.  13,  1816. 

I  am  happy  to  find  myself  once  more  in  the  dear  hospi- 
table dwelling  of  Mr.  B.  Though  Connecticut  is  doubt- 
less the  garden  of  the  world,  producing  the  richest,  most 
abundant  fruits  of  intelligence  and  charity,  yet  it  cannot 


214  HIS    RETURN. 

supply  the  place  of  my  beloved  wife.  In  a  few  days,  per- 
haps next  Monday,  if  the  weather  should  be  favorable,  I 
hope  to  start  for  Beverly,  in  company  with  my  brother. 
Several  weeks  ago,  I  indulged  a  hope  that  I  might  be  able 
to  return  alone.  But  now  I  am  by  no  means  able.  I  fear 
my  left  ancle  is  not  any  stronger  than  when  I  left  Beverly. 
In  all  other  respects,  my  health  seems  to  be  considerably 
improved.  I  do  not  entertain  the  least  hope  of  being  able 
to  resume  my  stated  ministerial  labors  before  next  sum- 
mer; and  the  probability  is  very  small  that  even  then  I 
shall  be  able.  A  separation  from  my  dear  people  seems 
inevitable.  Their  good  most  manifestly  demands  this 
sacrifice  from  us.  And  I  trust  that  He  who  feeds  the  ra- 
vens, will  not  suffer  us  to  lack,  though  I  know  not  by 
what  means  our  wants  will  be  supplied.  O  that  this  trial 
of  our  faith  may  be  much  more  precious  than  perishing 
gold. 

Barkhampstead,  August  19,  1016. 

I  am  now  on  my  way  home,  with  brother  R.  We  have 
come  about  ten  miles  from  Norfolk.  Last  Saturday,  I 
was  astonished  to  learn,  by  a  line  from  Paulina,  that  I  had 
a  little  daughter  at  Bradford,  more  than  a  week  old 
when  she  wrote.  I  have  neither  time  nor  power  to  de- 
scribe the  conflicting  emotions  of  joy  and  anxiety  by  which 
I  was  agitated.  But  I  endeavored  to  stay  my  soul  upon 
the  eternal  Rock.  Dearest  Rebecca,  what  would  I  now 
give  to  know  the  exact  state  of  your  health,  and  that  of 
our  sweet  little  daughter — if  indeed  she  be  yet  alive. 

He  arrived  in  safety  at  his  home.  Thus  closed  the  tour 
of  our  invalid, — a  tour  which  endeared  him  to  many,  and 
many  to  him.  It  was  undertaken  in  quest  of  health;  but 
prosecuted,  seemingly,  as  much  in  quest  of  daily  useful- 
ness, though  with  no  such  profession.  Nor  did  he  make 
any  effort  to  this  end;  but  studiously  avoided  all  exertion 
that  would  impede  his  recovery.  The  truth  is,  (if  a 
brother  may  be  permitted  to  say,  what  it  would  be  historic 
injustice  to  omit,)  he  loved  to  do  good,  and  could  not  well 
help  it,  wherever  he  went.  His  usefulness,  however,  was 
now  confined  almost  entirely  to  conversation,  and  to  im- 
parting instruction  occasionally  in  reading,  etc.  to  such 
young  persons  as  might  gather  round  him.     While  in  N 


HIS    DISMISSION.  215 

he  heard  a  class  of  young  ladies  read  once  a  day  for  some 
time;  at  the  close  of  which,  he  unexpectedly  received 
from  them  a  substantial  token  of  their  gratitude, — while 
he  was  equally  grateful  for  the  double  reward  of  their  at- 
tention and  their  bounty. 

It  had  now  become  sufficiently  manifest  to  himself  and 
his  friends,  that  duty  required  the  final  dissolution  of  his 
charge.  It  was  accordingly  dissolved,  in  due  form  and  by 
mutual  consent,  Sept.  21,  1816,  just  thirteen  years  from 
the  day  of  his  ordination.  The  crisis  was  doubtless  ex- 
tremely trying,  both  for  him  and  for  his  affectionate  peo- 
ple. It  was  the  sundering  of  the  bonds  of  first  love,  on 
both  sides,  as  he  was  their  first  minister,  and  they  his  only 
people.  Still,  the  severity  of  the  shock  was  much  broken 
by  along  and  gradually  increasing  anticipation  of  its  ne- 
cessity. But  after  all,  I  am  confident  that  I  hazard  noth- 
ing by  asserting,  that  none  but  a  minister  who  has  actu- 
ally been  separated  from  an  affectionate  flock,  can  appre- 
ciate such  a  trial.  Alas,  the  widowhood  of  soul  that  such 
a  day  produces !  In  his  case,  and  in  his  feeble  state,  it 
was  probably  too  much  for  his  pen  to  attempt  the  record 
of  his  emotions,  as  I  find  not  a  word  on  the  topic,  at  the 
time.  Yet  I  doubt  not,  that  it  was  with  his  wonted  calm- 
ness and  resignation,  that  he  beheld  this  sealing  up  of  the 
account  of  his  pastorship,  for  the  day  of  judgment. 


CHAPTER   XL 


HIS      CHARACTER      AS      A      PASTOR. 

Letters  from  Rev.  B.  Emerson — From  Rev.  J.  JV.  El- 
ling  wood — From  a  parishioner — Additional  remarks  on 
the  character  of  his  preaching — His  success — His  care 
in  teaching  recent  converts,  and  caution  in  admitting 
them  to  the  church — Church  discipline — Efforts  and 
plans  for  instructing  his  people. 

The  present  is  a  fit  occasion  to  pause  for  a  moment,  and 
take  a  view  of  the  character  of  my  brother  in  the  diverse 
relations  of  the  pastoral  office.  This  view,  however,  may 
be  the  more  brief,  in  consequence  of  many  facts  on  this 
topic  already  adduced,  and  the  incidental  remarks  in  con- 
nection with  them.  Here,  too,  as  elsewhere,  I  prefer,  as 
far  as  possible,  to  give  the  statements  and  opinions  of  oth- 
ers, instead  of  my  own.  The  first  communication  on  this 
subject,  is  from  Rev.  Brown  Emerson,  of  Salem.  Situa- 
ted within  about  two  miles  of  each  other,  their  intercourse 
was  easy  and  intimate,  and  was  very  highly  valued  by  my 
brother,  as  I  had  occasion  to  know  from  frequent  remarks 
that  he  made  in  my  hearing.  This  statement  will  exhibit 
his  character  chiefly  in  relation  to  his  ministerial  breth- 
ren, and  his  efforts  for  'their  mutual  improvement  as 
pastors. 

Salem,  October  16,  1033. 

My  dear  Sir, — Your  lamented  brother  was  a  friend  of 
mine,  with  whom  I  had  an  intimate  acquaintance,  from 
the  time  of  my  settlement  in  Salem,  in  1SH5,  to  the  time 
of  his  removal  from  Beverly ;  and  every  yenr  added 
strength  to  the  ties  of  friendship,  by  increasing  the  esteem 
and  love  I  ever  cherished  for  his  character.     The   stores 


FROM    REV.    B.    EMERSON.  217 

of  knowledge,  with  which  his  mind  was  enriched,  the 
freedom,  propriety,  and  vivacity,  with  which  he  commu- 
nicated his  thoughts  in  conversation,  the  self-evident  sin- 
cerity, and  unaffected  simplicity  of  his  manners,  and, 
above  all,  the  spirit  of  fervent  piety,  which  breathed  in 
all  his  social  intercourse,  rendered  that  intercourse  pecu- 
liarly interesting  and  profitable.  These  delightful  qual- 
ities were  not  only  seen  in  the  social  circle,  but  were  car- 
ried into  his  more  private  and  intimate  converse.  On 
this  point  1  speak  from  experience.  During  a  part  of  his 
residence  in  Beverly,  he  and  myself  statedly  met  in  what 
he  humorously  called  our  fricnrf/tj  duel,  for  the  purpose  of 
studying  the  scriptures  together,  canvassing  subjects  re- 
lating to  the  interests  of  the  church,  uniting  in  devotion- 
al exercises,  and  examining  each  other's  religious  views 
and  hopes.  We  met  a  part  of  the  time  once  in  four 
weeks,  and  a  part  of  the  time  once  in  two  weeks.  At 
these  meetings,  we  took  a  view  of  Ecclesiastical  History, 
and  examined,  with  the  helps  we  had,  many  portions  of 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments.  In  all  these  private  con- 
ferences, he  showed  the  same  intelligent,  frank,  active, 
and  spiritual  mind,  which  marked  his  more  public  inter- 
course. 

No  man  placed  a  higher  estimate  upon  the  society  of 
his  ministerial  brethren,  or  was  disposed  to  do  more  to 
make  that  society  reciprocally  useful.  When  he  was  set- 
tled in  Beverly,  and  for  several  years,  the  Association  of 
Salem  and  vicinity  was  in  such  a  state,  that,  in  his  judg- 
ment and  the  judgment  of  other  evangelical  ministers,  the 
most  important  ends  of  an  association  of  christian  pastors, 
could  not  be  obtained  in  connexion  with  that  body.  This 
led  to  the  formation  of  the  Salem  Ministerial  Conference, 
in  the  year  1804,  of  which  your  brother,  in  connexion  with 
the  late  Dr.  Worcester  of  Salem,  and  the  Rev.  Messrs. 
Hezekiah  May  and  Samuel  Dana  of  Marblehead,  was  a 
founder.  Of  this  body,  your  brother  was  an  active  and 
useful  member  until  he  was  dismissed  from  his  ministe- 
rial charge.  The  body  was  afterward  much  enlarged,  and 
continued  in  active  operation,  until  the  year  1823,  when 
such  changes  had  taken  place,  that  the  privileges,  for  the 
sake  of  which  it  was  formed,  were  more  conveniently 
found  in  other  associations. 
19 


218  HIS    MINISTERIAL    CHARACTER. 

Of  all  the  excellent  traits  in  the  character  of  our  de- 
parted brother,  none,  perhaps,  was  more  prominent,  in 
the  view  of  those,  who  were  well  acquainted  with  him, 
than  christian  candor.  It  was  a  soft  and  broad  mantle, 
which  he  was  ever  ready  to  cast  over  the  errors  and  in- 
firmities of  others.  Seldom  have  I  known  a  man,  so  firm- 
ly established  in  the  truth,  and  so  abhorrent  of  sin,  who 
always  seemed  so  entirely  free  from  asperity  of  feeling, 
and  whose  words  and  actions  exhibited  more  uniformly 
the  meekness  and  gentleness  of  Christ. 

Yours,  B.  Emerson. 

Rev.  Professor  Emerson. 

The  following  will  present  him  among  his  own  people. 
It  is  from  his  intimate  friend  and  former  parishioner,  Rev. 
Mr.  Ellingwood.  The  decision  which  it  illustrates,  as  a 
trait  in  my  brother's  character,  has  been  noticed  before. 
It  was,  however,  generally  so  modified  and  shaded  off  by 
the  milder  graces,  that  perhaps  some  of  his  less  intimate 
acquaintances  might  think  him  liable  to  become  too  yield- 
ing and  pliant.  In  unimportant  matters,  he  was  indeed 
ever  ready  to  yield ;  but  in  those  of  a  higher  nature,  and 
where  principle  was  involved,  never.  When  seeking  to 
become  all  things  to  all  men,  it  was  that  he  might  gain 
them  ;  not  that  he  might  supinely  suffer  them  to  ruin 
themselves,  or  injure  others. 

Bath,  Oct.  2,  1833. 

Dear  Brother, — Although  my  health  is  still  so  poor 
that  I  am  able  to  write  but  little,  yet  I  cannot  forbear  to 
mention  a  few  facts  respecting  your  brother's  ministry 
in  Beverly,  which  may  perhaps  assist  you  in  making  fur- 
ther inquiries  of  those  who  were  constantly  under  his  in- 
structions. 

He  began  his  appropriate  labors  in  Beverly  with  great 
zeal,  and  with  a  deep  sense  of  his  dependence  on  the 
Spirit  of  God  for  success;  and,  in  pursuing  his  course, 
exhibited  a  great  degree  of  christian  independence.  One 
of  his  first  acts  of  this  description  occurred  on  the  day  of 
his  ordination.  The  church  and  parish  had  made  great 
exertions,  and  incurred  considerable  expense  in  provid- 
ing a  respectable  entertainment  for  the  council ;  but  no 
sooner  were  the  public  services  concluded  than  he  repair- 


FROM    REV.    MR.    ELLINGWOOD.  219 

ed  to  his  lodgings,  and  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day 
in  retirement,  utterly  declining  to  dine  with  the  council, 
and  offering  as  a  reason,  that  he  thought  it  more  scrip- 
tural that  ordinations  should  be  accompanied  by  fasting 
and  prayer  than  by  feasting. 

During  the  early  part  of  his  ministry,  and  while  his 
health  was  tolerably  good,  he  attended  an  unusual 
number  of  conference  meetings,  prayer  meetings,  lec- 
tures, etc. 

At  an  early  period,  he  delivered  a  course  of  lectures  on 
the  Assembly's  Catechism,  in  a  private  house,  which  con- 
tinued, I  think,  once  a  fortnight  for  a  year,  and  perhaps 
more,  and  were  fully  attended.  These  lectures  were 
thought  to  be  greatly  useful  in  giving  his  people  a  good 
knowledge  of  the  doctrines  of  grace. 

He  gave  also  a  considerable  number  of  lectures  on 
scripture  history  and  geography,  making  use  of  a  black 
board  and  chalk  to  illustrate  his  subjects. 

He  often  met  the  children  and  youth  for  catechetical 
instruction,  and  gave  rewards  of  bibles  and  psalm- 
books  to  those,  who  committed  the  whole  of  the  Assem- 
bly's Catechism  with  notes,  etc.  Many  of  the  children 
of  his  parish,  in  this  way,  procured  bibles  and  Watts's 
psalms  and  hymns,  which  they  highly  prized. 

He  established  a  Female  Bible  Class,  the  first  that  I 
ever  heard  of,  in  conducting  which,  he  wrote  questions 
on  slips  of  paper,  and  presented  to  his  pupils  to  be  an- 
swered from  the  scriptures.  This  was  a  work  of  consid- 
erable labor,  and  as  the  questions  multiplied  he  transcrib- 
ed them  into  a  book.  Here  originated  his  Minor  Doctri- 
nal and  Historical  Catechism,   [as  before  noticed.] 

Permit  me  here  to  relate  an  anecdote  of  your  brother, 
illustrative  of  his  decision  and  independence.  At  a  cer- 
tain time  during  his  ministry,  a  young  man  was  licenced 
to  preach  the  gospel,  who  had  been  during  his  preparatory 
studies  considerably  connected  with  Mr.  E.'s  family  and 
parish  ;  and  to  whom  he  was  much  attached.  This  young 
man,  it  seems,  had,  by  some  means,  unintentionally  of- 
fended an  influential  and  wealthy  member  of  Mr.  E.'s 
church  and  society.  One  of  the  brethren  of  the  church 
went  to  Mr.  E.  and  told  him,  that  this  influential  member 
disliked  the  young  man  exceedingly,  and  objected  to  his 
preaching  in  the  meeting-house  ;  and  that  it  was  thought 


220  HIS    MINISTERIAL    CHARACTER. 

that  it  would  not  do  to  invite  him.  He  replied  with  great 
promptness,  "  I  shall  pay  no  attention  to  the  suggestion. 
1  would  sooner  go  into  Nebuchadnezzar's  furnace,  than 
I  would  thus  treat  an  acknowledged  and  beloved  minis- 
ter of  Christ." 

Another  anecdote  illustrative  of  his  sense  of  depen- 
dence on  divine  aid  in  performing  parochial  duties.  One 
day,  according  to  his  custom,  he  left  home  on  foot,  soon 
after  breakfast,  on  a  tour  for  family  visiting,  in  a  remote 
part  of  his  parish.  A  few  minutes  afterwards,  I  met  him 
returning  to  his  house,  with  a  very  quick  step.  The 
next  day,  in  conversing  with  him  on  the  importance  of 
prayer,  he  said  to  me,  "  I  never  even  visit  my  people  with- 
out making  the  duty  a  special  subject  of  prayer,  just  be- 
fore I  go  out.  Yesterday,"  said  he,  "  I  forgot  to  at- 
tend to  it,  and  when  I  met  you,  I  was  going  back  to 
perform  it." 

He  was,  I  believe,  eminently  a  man  of  prayer. 

Most  affectionately,   your  friend  and  brother, 

Jno.  W.  Ellingwood. 

Rev.  Professor  Emerson. 

I  subjoin  a  few  remarks  from  one  who  was  young  at 
the  time  my  brother  was  settled,  and  who  was  a  constant 
attendant  on  his  ministry  in  Beverly.  "  I  think  few  min- 
isters have  done  more  good  in  any  place  than  he  has 
done  here.  When  he  came  among  us,  the  cause  of  vital 
religion,  was  very  low.  By  his  preaching,  by  his  godly 
conversation,  by  his  devout  and  holy  life,  he  raised  the 
standard  of  religion;  and  not  a  few  now  look  up  to  him 
as  their  spiritual  father,  and  I  doubt  not  will  be  his 
crown  of  joy  in  a  better  world.  I  think  he  left  an  im- 
pression on  all  with  whom  he  became  acquainted,  of 
the  reality  of  vital  religion.  His  whole  life  preached  the 
gospel. 

"In  the  first  years  of  his  ministry  with  us,  he  dwelt 
more  on  terrific  subjects  than  in  after  years.  I  had  heard 
him  preach  the  terrors  of  the  law,  till  they  made  a  feeble 
impression  on  my  mind.  I  recollect  his  calling  to  see 
me,  and  in  the  course  of  his  conversation,  he  asked  me 
if  I  thought  I  had  religion.  And  when  I  told  him,  that 
I  feared  I  was  destitute  of  it,  he  then  said,  '  if  I  thought 
you  had  not  religion,  I   should  tremble  for  you.5     This 


HIS    MINISTERIAL    CHARACTER.  221 

was  said  in  such  a  manner,  so  kind  and  tender,  that  it 
made  a  deep  impression,  and  1  could  not  help  trembling 
for  myself.  It  had  more  effect  on  my  mind,  than  his  ter- 
rific appeals  from  the  pulpit.  I  believe  that  a  great  part 
of  the  good  that  he  was  the  means  of  doing  here,  was 
by  his  pious  and  holy  conversation." 

As  a  preacher,  he  always  addressed  the  heart  through 
the  understanding  and  the  conscience.  He  was  always 
clear  in  his  statements,  and  very  methodical  in  his  ar- 
rangement. His  preaching  was  highly  instructive,  and 
at  the  greatest  remove  from  all  kinds  of  ostentation, 
both  as  to  language  and  manner.  Simplicity  and  pungen- 
cy pervaded  the  whole.  In  all  these  particulars,  his 
preaching  bore  the  impress  of  the  Emmonean  school. 
Well  knowing  whereof  he  affirmed,  he  would  fain  com- 
pel others  first  to  know,  and  then  regard  the  sacred  mes- 
sage. But  what  is  not  a  little  singular,  he  gradually  be- 
came more  impassioned  and  rhetorical,  as  he  advanced 
in  life.  Some  portions  of  his  discourses,  at  a  later  period 
and  especially  towards  the  close  of  his  life,  were  happy 
specimens  of  chaste  and  elevated  passion.  I  cannot  but 
think,  that  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  ministry,  the  fire  and 
poetry  of  his  soul,  were  held  too  much  in  check,  so  far 
as  style  was  concerned,  by  his  extreme  desire  to  make 
every  word  intelligible  to  the  meanest  capacity,  and  by 
his  utter  loathing  of  all  approach  to  ostentation.  His 
more  extended  intercourse  with  the  world,  after  his  dis- 
mission, and  especially  his  residence  at  the  south,  may 
have  contributed  to  this  change,  though  his  nearer  ap- 
proach to  heaven,  was  probably  a  greater  cause. 

His  enunciation  was  always  distinct,  and  generally  loud 
and  animated.  Indeed  loudness  was  much  too  uniform, 
to  admit  of  the  greatest  interest  and  effect.  To  this,  he 
was  led  by  an  anxiety  to  make  himself  heard  throughout 
by  every  deaf  person  before  him.  It  was,  however,  a 
mistake,  as  he  thus  surrendered  a  greater  for  a  less  good, 
— the  higher  benefit  of  the  many,  for  the  advantage  of  a 
very  fewT  His  voice  was  strong,  and  his  lungs,  as  he 
used  frequently  to  say,  were  the  soundest  part  of  him. 
Of  this,  like  his  grandfather  before  him,  he  sometimes 
gave  rather  painful  demonstrations  to  the  more  sensitive 
ears  of  his  auditors.  The  deaf,  however,  were  always 
very  grateful,  while  others,  perhaps,  neglected  to  inform 
19* 


222  HIS    MINISTERIAL    CHARACTER. 

him  of  the  injury  on  their  part,  and  thus  left   him  to  de- 
ception as  regarded  his  highest  usefulness. 

It  has  already  been  stated,  that  he  early  adopted  the 
extempore  mode  of  preaching.  This  was  probably  a  great 
gain,  on  the  whole,  though  occasionally  an  injury  in  re- 
spect to  conciseness  and  elegance  of  diction. 

He  trained  his  people,  as  well  as  himself,  to  be  ready 
to  every  good  work  in  advancing  the  cause  of  the  Re- 
deemer, at  home  and  abroad :  and  in  this  good  cause,  I 
believe  they  have  been  distinguished  to  the  present  time. 
Beneficence  he  inculcated  abundantly  as  a  christian  duty 
in  distinction  from  a  transient  impulse  of  feeling.  The 
point  at  which  he  aimed,  was  to  bring  each  one  of  his 
flock,  with  the  heart  and  with  the  understanding,  so  to 
live  each  day  as  to  do  his  utmost  to  hasten  the  universal 
reign  of  Christ  on  earth.  The  millennium,  the  millennium, 
this  it  was  that  fired  his  soul,  and  with  the  hope  of  which 
he  strove  to  inflame  every  bosom  around  him. 

He  was  well  aware  of  the  fact,  that  man  very  readily 
doubles  his  own  usefulness  to  the  church,  by  bringing 
forward  an  equally  useful  man  to  the  work  of  the  minis- 
try. Accordingly,  he  was  ever  on  the  alert  to  discover- 
suitable  young  men  for  this  purpose,  among  his  own  peo- 
ple and  elsewhere,  and  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  direct 
and  aid  them.  Among  them,  may  be  reckoned  the  ex- 
cellent and  promising  Mr.  Ingersoll,  already  mentioned, 
to  say  nothing  of  many  others  still  alive.  He  was  also 
much  engaged  in  promoting  the  usefulness  of  females,  by 
encouraging  them  to  the  work  of  teaching  school,  etc., 
and  affording  the  aid  in  his  power  while  yet  a  pastor. 
•  It  is  already  apparent  from  his  letters,  that  his  whole 
soul  delighted  in  revivals  of  religion,  several  of  which  he 
witnessed  among  his  own  people.  But  he  was  much  more 
deeply  solicitous  than  some  men,  that  they  should  be  re- 
vivals oi'jjure  and  undefiled  religion.  Conviction  was  not 
conversion,  in  his  view  ;  nor  was  a  mere  resolution,  how- 
ever strong,  to  renounce  the  world  and  lead  a  godly  life, 
to  be  regarded  as  a  saving  change,  though  so  liable  in 
these  days  to  be  mistaken  for  it.  lie  inculcated  such  a 
change  of  heart  as  leads  the  subject  of  it  to  delight  su- 
premely in  the  service  and  glory  of  God;  and  he  sought 
credible  evidence  of  such  a  change,  in  order  to  admis- 
sion to  the  church.     He  sought  also   for   a   knowledge  of 


HIS    MINISTERIAL    CHARACTER.  223 

scripture  doctrine,  and  of  the  nature  of  the  gospel  ordi- 
nances. The  evidence,  too,  of  a  morally  honest  and  de- 
vout life,  was  deemed  equally  important.  With  all  his 
glowing  zeal,  he  was  not  lor  making  "  more  haste  than 
good  speed,"  in  the  Lord's  work  ;  nor  was  he  blind  to  the 
danger  of  gathering  young  wolves  along  with  the  lambs 
into  the  sacred  fold  ;  knowing,  that  when  grown,  they 
would  bite  and  devour  the  flock.  Most  deeply  did  he  de- 
plore the  precipitancy  of  some  in  admissions  to  the  church. 
He  took  much  pains  to  instruct  as  well  as  to  examine 
such   as    were    apparently    commencing   a  religious    life. 

This  church  increased  much  during  his  ministry;  but 
to  what  extent,  I  am  unable  to  state. 

One  of  the  severe  trials  of  his  pastoral  life,  arose  from 
cases  of  discipline  in  the  church.  More  or  less  of  this  is 
to  be  expected  in  every  faithful  church,  which  is  at  all  nu- 
merous. And,  perhaps,  in  a  church  newly  formed,  like 
this,  there  is  a  peculiar  liability  of  its  containing  some 
who  resort  to  it  from  imperfect  motives,  or  with  extrav- 
agant expectations  of  some  sort,  and  who  will  minister 
but  poorly  to  its  edification  in  love.  Whether  such  was 
the  case  here,  I  am  not  sufficiently  informed  to  decide. 
He  and  many  of  the  brethren  in  the  church  found  occa- 
sion for  all  the  firmness  and  wisdom  they  possessed,  in 
some  of  these  trials  ;  but  probably  such  trials  wrought,  in 
the  end,  to  their  spiritual  benefit. 

His  efforts  to  instruct  his  people  out  of  the  pulpit,  as 
well  as  in  it,  were  various  and  incessant.  In  addition  to 
some  devices  for  this  purpose,  already  mentioned,  I  pre- 
sent the  following,  as  found  among  his  papers.  Possibly 
the  plan  may  be  found  profitable  to  other  pastors.  The 
paper  is  without  date,  nor  am  I  able  to  state  any  thing  re- 
specting the  execution  or  results  of  the  plan. 

We,  the  subscribers,  members  of  the  Third  Congrega- 
tional Church  in  Beverly,  earnestly  desirous  of  increas- 
ing in  the  knowledge  and  love  of  God,  cordially  adopt 
the  following  plan  for  our  improvement. 

1.  We  engage,  by  divine  permission,  to  devote  at  least 
seven  hours  every  week,  for  the  purpose  of  gaining  reli- 
gious information,  in  such  manner  as  our  pastor  may 
direct. 

2.  We  engage,  by  divine  permission,  to  meet  with  our 
pastor  as  often  as  once  a  month,  at  such  time  and  place 


224  MUTUAL    IMPROVEMENT. 

as  may  be  deemed  most  convenient,  and  to  spend  about 
three  hours  at  each  meeting  in  the  manner  that  may  ap- 
pear to  him  best  calculated  to  promote  our  spiritual  wel- 
fare and  the  divine  glory. 

3.  We  engage  to  endeavor  to  answer  such  questions 
as  he  may  ask  us  at  these  meetings,  however  we  may 
manifest  our  ignorance  and  imperfections. 

4.  We  engage  to  exercise  great  candor  and  tender- 
ness toward  all  who  at  these  meetings  may  manifest  ig- 
norance, make  mistakes,  appear  confused,  or  appear  in 
any  way  to  disadvantage. 

5.  We  engage  not  to  mention  the  performance  of  any 
of  the  subscribers  in  a  manner  calculated  to  wound  their 
feelings,  or  injure  their  character. 

6.  We  engage  to  assist  each  other,  with  regard  to  the 
object  of  these  meetings,  as  far  as  we  may  find  it  con- 
venient, and  frequently  to  pray  in  secret,  that  these  meet- 
ings may  prove  greatly  instrumental  of  building  up  Zion. 

We  hold  ourselves  bound  by  these  engagements,  as 
long  as  the  pastor  finds  it  consistent  to  attend  the  meet- 
ings, and  our  names  stand  upon  the  list  of  subscribers. 

We  reserve  to  ourselves,  the  right  of  having  our  names 
taken  off  from  the  list  of  subscribers,  whenever  we  feel 
it  our  duty  to  request  the  pastor  to  do  it. 

Those  of  us,  who  reside  more  than  two  miles  from  the 
place  of  meeting,  do  not  hold  ourselves  obligated  to  at- 
tend more  than  half  of  the  meetings. 

We  do  not  expect  that  any  will  attend  these  meetings 
but  the  pastor  and  subscribers  ;  as  the  presence  of  others 
might  tend  to  embarrass  the  performances,  and  thus  di- 
minish the  advantages  which  we  hope  to  derive  from  these 
meetings. 

If  as  many  as  ten  should  subscribe,  the  pastor  will 
feel  bound  to  appoint  and  hold  the  first  meeting  as  soon 
as  convenient. 


CHAPTER    XII 


FROM    HIS    DISMISSION    TO    HIS    REMOVAL    TO    BYFIELD. 

1816—1818. 

Sails  for  'Wilmington — Arrival — Kind  treatment — Spir- 
itual enjoyment — Great  love  to  his  former  people,  etc. 
— Becomes  a  mason — Reasons  for  this — Preaches  to  the 
masons — Remarks  on  Milton,  Dwight,  etc. — His  esti- 
mate  of  Scott's  Commentary — Goes  to  Charleston — 
Kind  reception — Astronomical  Lectures — Lectures  on 
the  millennium  and  other  efforts — Return — Removed  to 
Byfield. 

After  his  dismission,  and  a  subsequent  journey  to  Han- 
over, N.  H.  he  sailed  from  Salem  for  Wilmington,  N. 
C.  in  quest  of  a  milder  climate  for  the  approaching  win- 
ter.    The  following  extracts  are  from  letters  to  his  wife. 

Scliooner  Superior,  La/.  37,  Loti.  74. 

Oct.  23,  9,  /\  M.  lSli;.—  Wed. 

My  dearest  Companion, — I  left  Dr.  Worcester's  be- 
fore sunrise  last  Thursday,  and  went  in  a  boat  to  the 
schooner,  as  she  lay  at  anchor.  About  12  o'clock  we 
sailed.  The  attraction  of  Beverly,  as  we  sailed  along, 
soon  drew  me  from  the  cabin.  With  what  tender  and 
solemn  interest  did  that  much  loved  village  retire,  and 
lessen,  and  melt  away  from  my  view.  Mackerel  Cove, 
the  Farm,*  and  Manchester  meeting-house,  seemed  cover- 
ed with  a  new  charm.  But  still,  I  was  far  from  re*,  retting 
my  undertaking.  We  soon  found  ourselves  in  the  wide 
and  roaring  ocean.  The  wind  was  strong  and  fair;  and 
we  were  swiftly  driven  through  the  opposing  waves.  I 
trust  I  found  some  satisfaction  in  committing  myself  to 

*  Distant  parts  of  his  parish  where  he  often  held  meetings. 


226  ARRIVAL    AT    WILMINGTON. 

the  Creator  and  Ruler  of  the  deep.  The  motion  of  the 
vessel,  being  considerably  violent,  had  much  more  effect 
upon  me,  than  I  anticipated.  The  day,  though  poor  for 
sailing,  has  in  other  respects  been  very  fine.  I  have 
spent  several  hours  on  deck  with  much  satisfaction. 
About  sunset,  I  was  greatly  amused  with  a  company  of 
porpoises,  perhaps  fifty  in  number.  We  discovered  them 
when  they  were  thirty  or  forty  rods  from  us.  Almost 
every  moment  some  of  them  might  be  seen,  at  or  above 
the  surface  of  the  water,  where  they  came  up  to  breathe. 
They  appeared  as  large  as  hogs  and  shoats.  They  came 
very  near  the  vessel. 

Mouth  of  Cape  Fear  River,  Oct.  29. 

When  I  wrote  the  above,  I  indulged  the  hope  that  my 
sea-sickness  was  drawing  to  a  close.  In  this,  however, 
I  have  been  disappointed.  I  have  not  been  well  a  mo- 
ment since  passing  Cape  Cod.  I  have  reason  to  be  thank- 
ful, however,  that  I  have  not  been  very  sick  at  any  time, 
that  I  have  been  able  to  attend  prayers  with  those  on 
board  almost  every  day,  and  have  enjoyed  much  delight- 
ful meditation.  I  have  received  the  most  kind  and  con- 
stant attention  from  all  my  shipmates,  especially  from 
Capt.  Knowlton. 

I  am  not  without  hope,  that  this  little  voyage  may  prove 
beneficial  to  my  health.  The  motion  of  the  vessel  has 
given  me  pbundance  of  exercise.  I  have  been  rocked, 
and  waved,  and  heaved,  and  jolted,  and  rolled,  and  tum- 
bled, and  shaken,  far  beyond  my  anticipation.  Though 
I  have  been  able  to  eat  very  little,  and  have  lost  some 
flesh,  yet  I  do  not  perceive  that  1  have  lost  any  strength. 

Wilmington,  Oct.  29. 
By  the  good  hand  of  our  God  upon  us,  we  arrived  safe- 
ly in  this  port,  about  three  o'clock  this  afternoon.  In  a 
few  minutes  after  we  arrived  at  the  wharf.  Mr.  Tyler 
came  on  board,  and  seemed  much  rejoiced  to  see  me. 
He  introduced  a  Mr.  Pitts  of  this  place,  a  native  of 
Chelmsford,  Mass.,  brought  up  in  Boston.  He  also  ap- 
peared to  give  rue  a  most  hearty  welcome.  As  I  had 
made  no  arrangements  for  coming  ashore,  I  thought  of 
sleeping  in  the  cabin.  But  Mr.  Pitts  politely  invited  me 
to  his  house,  and  I  was  persuaded  to  alter  my  purpose  of 
lodging  on  board.     I  am  now  at  his  house,  where  I  re- 


ARRIVAL    AT    WILMINGTON.  227 

ceive  every  attention  I  can  wish — and  more,  for  the  mos- 
quetoes  come  and  sing  round  my  ears,  as  though  very 
glad  to  see  me.  Mrs.  Pitts  is  a  native  of  this  place,  and 
appears  more  like  a  native  of  New  England  than  I  expect- 
ed to  find. 

Oct.  30. — The  morning  is  fair  and  bright;  the  mos- 
quetoes  are  all  retired  ;  the  trees  are  green  around  me, 
and  roses  are  blooming  in  the  garden  before  me.  I  feel 
much  better  this  morning,  than  I  had  dared  to  anticipate. 
I  feel  as  much  at  my  ease,  in  this  land  of  strangers,  as 
you  can  well  imagine.  1  am  cheered  with  the  hope  that 
my  voyage  and  residence  here,  will  prove  serviceable  to 
my  health. 

Capt.  Knowlton  has  just  called.  When  I  proposed 
settling  for  my  passage,  he  declined  taking  any  thing,  and 
said  he  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  give  me  the  pas- 
sage— and  glad  of  my  company. 

Nov.  2. — I  feel  more  vigorous  than  for  many  weeks 
before,  and  dare  to  indulge  the  hope,  that  my  limbs  are 
a  little  stronger.  I  hope  to  be  able  to  preach  to-morrow. 
I  believe  many  are  strongly  desirous  to  hear  a  New  Eng- 
land Presbyterian.  They  have  scarcely  ever  heard  any 
preaching  but  from  Episcopalians  and  Methodists. 

Wilmington,  Nov.\,  1C16. 

Yesterday,  according  to  my  previous  hope,  I  was  able 
to  preach  twice.  Indeed,  I  was  less  fatigued  at  night, 
than  1  have  usually  been  after  preaching  at  home.  1 
suppose  one  reason  was,  that  my  seat  in  the  pulpit  is 
more  commodious  than  I  have  ever  had  before.  As  it 
respects  the  exercise  of  preaching  in  this  place,  therefore, 
the  weakness  of  my  limbs  is  a  small  calamity.  I  preached 
with  about  the  same  comfort  to  myself  that  I  have  gener- 
ally enjoyed.  My  audience  was  nearly  as  large  as  I  have 
usually  had  in  Beverly  ;  most  of  them  appeared  attentive, 
and  some  very  attentive.  God  grant  it  may  not  be  in 
vain. 

Nov.  10.  Sabbath  eve. — I  have  preached  twice  to-day. 
As  I  was  coming  out  of  the  meeting-house  this  afternoon, 
when  most  of  the  people  were  out,  a  poor  old  negro  came 
up  to  me,  and  reaching  me  his  hand,  ''Sir,  1  rejoice  to 
hear  you,"  said  he.     You  may  be  assured  I  took  his  hand 


228  NEW    SCENES    AND    JOYS. 

most  cordially,  though  nothing  more  was  said,  as  the  car- 
riage was  waiting  for  me  at  the  door.  I  must  inquire  him 
out.  however,  and  see  him  again.  O,  I  long  to  have  a 
little  prayer  meeting,  where  I  can  have  at  least  two  or 
three  dear  brethren  and  sisters,  that  I  am  acquainted 
with,  to  help  me  pray  and  praise.  And  such  a  meeting  I 
do  fondly  hope  to  enjoy  within  a  few  days.  Never  before 
did  I  so  highly  estimate  my  former  privileges.  The  hour 
of  one  o'clock  is  more  precious  to  me  here  than  ever  it 
was  in  Connecticut.  O  what  a  gratification  would  it  be 
to  think,  that  my  dear  Beverly  friends  were  praying  at  the 
same  time.  I  do  love  them  more  than  ever ;  and  beg  of 
them  to  walk  in  love. 

Nov.  17. — The  day  has  been  very  warm  ;  nay,  hot,  and 
what  we  should  call  at  Beverly,  a  hot  summer  day.  We 
have  had  frosts,  however  ;  and  most  of  the  leaves  that 
were  green,  when  I.  came,  are  dead.  The  roses,  how- 
ever, are  still  blooming  in  the  open  garden ;  and  they  are 
said  to  yield  their  blossoms  every  month  in  the  year  but 
February.  But  they  are  a  peculiar  kind  of  roses,  that  are 
more  pleasant  to  the  sight  than  to  the  smell.  The  frosts 
are  considered  a  very  great  mercy,  as  putting  an  end  to 
the  sickly  season.  I  have  not  seen  a  sick  person  in  the 
place. 

Wilmington,  Dec.],  1816. 

Tuesday  evening  I  did  not  have  the  sweet  little  prayer- 
meeting,  which  I  had  anticipated  ;  but  I  had  a  congre- 
gation of  nearly  sixty  persons  to  hear  what  I  had  to  say 
to  them.  After  the  introductory  devotional  exercises  and 
reading  a  chapter  in  the  bible,  I  made  a  few  remarks, 
and  read  Miss  Woodbury's  "  Address  to  Christians."  It 
was  heard  with  much  attention  and  solemnity,  and  I 
hope  with  some  profit. 

I  have  now  been  here  more  than  a  month ;  and  if  I 
have  ever  found  it  good  for  me  to  draw  near  to  God,  it 
has  been  in  this  place.  I  have  here  enjoyed  one  of  the 
happiest  months  of  my  life.  O  how  good  and  how  plea- 
sant it  is  to  feel  my  heart  glowing  with  love  to  my  wife, 
my  children,  my  parents,  my  connexions,  my  friends,  my 
enemies,  and  the  whole  human  race.  "  My  willing  soul 
would  stay  in  such  a  frame  as  this." 


HE    BECOMES    A    MASON.  229 

Dec.  5. — My  dear  children  are  often  rising  in  my 
mind  with  increasing  endearment.  N.'s  desk,  which  she 
so  cheerfully  parted  with,  is  very  commodious,  and  often 
brings  her  sweetly  to  my  remembrance.  The  lint,  that 
my  dear  little  boys  scraped  for  me,  I  have  used  ever 
since;  and  you  cannot  easily  imagine,  how  much  satisfac- 
tion it  has  afforded  me.  The  sweet  little  Eleanor  I  love 
more,  perhaps,  for  her  mother's  sake,  than  for  anv  other 
particular  reason.  O  that  these  children  may  become  the 
children  of  God  in  the  highest  sense.  Let  us  pray  and 
plead  for  their  souls  without  fainting,  and  without  ceas- 
ing. Dear  brother  Low  !  he  has  been  a  father  to  me, 
and  more  than  a  father.  I  believe  very  few  fathers  have 
shown  such  abundant  kindness  to  their  children  as  he 
has  shown  to  me.  My  other  Beverly  friends  I  cherish 
with  fonder  and  fonder  attachment.  My  heart  seems  en- 
larged to  embrace  them.  Is  it  not  astonishing  that  I  can 
be  so  far  removed  from  connexions  and  friends,  so  amia- 
ble and  so  dear,  and  yet  seem  to  enjoy  them  almost  as 
though  I  were  present  with  them?  O  what  reason  have 
I  to  bless  God  for  the  sweet  and  almost  constant  tranquil- 
lity which  I  enjoy.     My  Jesus  is  mine  and  I  am  his. 

Within  a  few  years,  and  especially  within  a  few  months, 
I  have  been  much  impressed  with  the  importance  of 
becoming  all  things  to  all  men,  that  I  might  by  all 
means  save  some.  It  is  this  which  has  induced  me  to 
solemnize  a  marriage  in  the  episcopalian  form,  and  to 
commune  with  episcopalians  ;  and  it  is  this,  which  has 
induced  me,  after  very  serious  and  prayerful  considera- 
tion, to  become — what  I  once  thought  I  certainly  never 
should  be — to  become  a  free-mason.  Why  do  you  start? 
It  is  even  so.  I  was  yesterday  initiated  into  mysteries, 
concerning  which,  I  must  keep  the  door  of  my  lips  even 
from  her  that  lieth  in  my  bosom.  A  desire  of  knowing 
these  mysteries,  however,  was  a  very  small  part  of  my 
inducement  to  join  the  fraternity.  A  much  stronger  mo- 
tive was  presented  by  a  hope  of  deriving  advantage  from  it, 
in*case  I  should  travel  to  distant  lands.  But,  if  I  know  my 
own  heart,  the  motive,  which  was  incomparably  stronger 
than  all  others,  was  a  wish  and  hope,  that  I  might  be  ena- 
bled to  do  good  to  my  dear  fellow  mortals — to  those,  or 
at  least  to  some  of  those,  who  are  now  my  brother  ma- 
sons. It  will  afford  me  great  advantages  to  do  them  good 
20 


230  MISCELLANEOUS. 

in  more  ways  than  one.  Without  disclosing  any  secret,  I 
could  fill  a  sheet  in  describing  these  advantages;  but 
you  see  my  sheet  is  almost  full.  It  may  also  expose  me 
to  some  ditliculties  and  dangers,  from  which  I  hope  you 
will  pray,  that  I  may  be  delivered.  You  will  not  under- 
stand me  as  intimating  any  thing  against  masonry  ;  but 
only  that  there  are  masons,  who  are  by  no  means  what 
they  should  be.  Alas  that  this  were  not  the  case  with 
multitudes  of  professed  christians.  It  is  no  secret  that 
a  consistent  mason  must  be  a  real  christian.  A  goodly 
number  of  them,  I  trust,  are  christians.  May  the  Lord 
in  mercy  give  me  some  of  the  rest.  My  heart's  desire  for 
them  all  is,  that  they  may  be  saved. 

The  glow  of  happy  feeling  that  pervades  these  letters, 
is,  perhaps,  to  be  ascribed  in  some  measure,  to  his 
change  of  circumstances.  When  dismissed  from  a  be- 
loved people,  whose  spiritual  wants  he  had  long  been 
unable  to  meet,  he  was  relieved  from  a  mill-stone  of  re- 
sponsibility, that  had  been  imperceptibly  sinking  his  spirit 
in  the  depths.  He  also  found  himself,  though  in  a  land 
of  strangers,  surrounded  by  kindness,  and  with  a  new 
sphere  of  usefulness  gently  opening  upon  him,  and  in- 
volving no  more  of  either  care  or  toil  than  might  be  found 
compatible  with  the  most  healthful  action  both  of  body 
and  mind.  His  soul  rose  in  grateful  aspirations  to  God, 
and  glowed  with  new  love  to  the  whole  universe.  But  amid 
these  autumnal  roses,  this  freshening  and  balmy  gale  of 
returning  prosperity,  what  do  we  meet?  Behold,  to  the 
astonishment  of  his  friends,  and  to  his  own  surprise 
even,  he  becomes  a  mason  !  Not  that  we  can  imagine  it 
a  sin  in  him.  On  the  contrary,  his  motives  as  just  de- 
veloped, appear  of  the  highest  order,  involving  chiefly 
the  noble  purpose  of  saving  souls.  But  still  it  seemed 
inexpressibly  strange  to  us,  that  he  should  be  a  mason. 
When  rallied  on  the  topic  of  its  seeming  incongruity, 
after  his  return,  till  he  could  no  longer  silently  endure  it, 
he  very  gravely  expounded  his  motives  in  a  manner  simi- 
lar to  the  above,  and  dwelt  with  peculiar  emphasis  on  the 
hope  he  had  been  led  to  entertain,  of  its  being  the  means 
of  increasing  his  usefulness  at  the  south.  It  may  be  well 
to  bear  these  motives  in  mind,  as  we  shall  have  occasion 
to  recur  to  the  topic  of  his  masonry,  at  a  future  period 
and  under  a  different  aspect. 


PREACHES    TO    THE    MASONS.  231 

Wilmington,  Dec.  25,  1816. 

It  was  with  unspeakable  satisfaction,  that  I  received 
your  letter  and  Nancy's,  last  evening.  As  I  am  engaged 
to  preach  to  the  masonic  fraternity  within  forty-eight 
hours,  I  can  write  but  few  words. 

I  should  much  regret  to  have  our  Social  Library,  that 
I  have  fostered  with  so  much  delight,  be  useless.  Per- 
haps there  is  no  other  way,  in  which  you  can  do  so  much 
good,  at  so  easy  a  rate,  as  by  dealing  spiritual  bread  to 
the  hungry  from  those  shelves. 

TO    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

Dear  N., — You  little  think  how  much  your  letter  has 
soothed  my  aching  heart.  You  may  be  assured  that  of 
all  mortals,  you  hold  the  second  place  in  my  affections. 
You  do  not  know  how  much  I  have  delighted  to  pray  and 
plead  for  you,  and  your  dear  brother  and  sister,  and  their 
mother,  every  day  since  I  saw  you.  But  my  dear  child, 
you  must  pray  for  yourself,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  family, 
and  for  all  mankind.  O  you  cannot  conceive  what  sweet- 
ness there  is  in  prayer.  Taste  and  see.  I  am  now  tot- 
tering over  the  grave.  I  never  expect  to  be  well,  till  I 
am  well  in  heaven.  One  of  the  reasons  that  I  wish  to 
live,  is,  that  I  may  pray  for  you,  and  do  all  in  my  power 
for  your  salvation.  O  may  you  be  all  your  dear  departed 
mother  was,  and  prepare  to  meet  her,  where  you  will  find 
her  more  than  an  angel. 

Wilmington,  Jan.  1,  1817. 

My  dearest  Companion, — A  happy  new  year  !  Hap- 
py indeed,  if  it  conducts  us  to  heaven.  And  I  hope  I 
am  willing  to  leave  the  world — to  leave  my  beloved  wife, 
my  sweet  children,  my  kind  and  excellent  friends,  my 
unwritten  books,  and  all  my  dear  unfinished  plans,  when- 
ever my  Savior  calls  me  to  arise  and  depart.  But  if  he 
has  any  thing  more  for  me  to  do  in  this  world  for  his 
glory,  I  should  prefer  to  stay,  and  finish  my  work.  O 
may  I  never  be  left  to  dishonor  his  blessed  name. 

I  delivered  to  the  free-masons  in  this  place,  the  long- 
est sermon  I  ever  preached,  and  I  hope,  not  the  poorest. 
I  endeavored  to  give  my  brethren  as  much  doctrine,  re- 
proof, correction,  instruction,  and  exhortation,  as  possi- 


232  BENEFACTION. 

ble,  in  a  discourse  of  eighty  minutes,  together  with  such 
commendation  of  our  benevolent  institution,  as  I  could 
sincerely  bestow.  O  may  it  prove  instrumental  of  ad- 
vancing the  cause  of  the  dear  Redeemer.  My  being  a 
mason  myself,  gave  me  a  vast  advantage  in  addressing 
them.  My  subject  was,  Luke  x :  37.  Then  said  Jesus 
unto  him,  Go  and  do  thou  likewise. 

The  grand  object  of  my  address,  was  to  exhort  and 
urge,  and  if  possible  to  stir  up  my  brethren,  to  engage 
with  all  their  hearts,  and  all  their  powers,  in  evangeliz- 
ing the  world.  God  grant  that  my  plea  for  the  poor 
heathen,  and  for  my  glorious  Savior  may  not  prove  in  vain. 
At  the  close  of  the  exercises,  there  was  a  collection  for 
the  American  Bible  Society  of  nearly  sixty  dollars.  This 
is  one  comforting  evidence,  that  my  labor  is  not  in  vain 
in  the  Lord.  O  if  our  numerous  and  powerful  fraternity 
would  all  engage  in  the  blessed  work,  individually  and 
unitedly,  with  all  their  hearts,  how  soon  would  the  wil- 
derness and  the  solitary  place  be  glad  for  us — how  soon 
would  they  rejoice  and  blossom  as  the  rose  \ 

My  greatest  objection  to  becoming  a  mason,  was  a 
fear,  that  it  might  wound  the  feelings  of  some  of  my 
numerous  friends,  who  are  dearer  to  me  than  life,  and 
whose  friendship  I  prize  above  mountains  of  gold.  But, 
if  I  have  really  caused  grief  to  any  such,  1  hope  it  will  be 
of  short  duration — that  their  sorrow  will  soon  be  turned 
into  joy, — and  that  they  will  remember  no  more  the  an- 
guish, for  joy,  that  a  more  extensive  field  is  open  for  the 
usefulness  of  their  brother  and  friend. 

Jan.  2. — If  we  cannot  lay  up  any  thing  else  for  our 
dear  children,  let  us  daily  be  laying  up  a  treasure  of 
prayers.  Perhaps  we  cannot  leave  them  a  better  inherit- 
ance. I  trust,  however,  they  will  be  comfortably  sup- 
plied with  this  world's  goods.  The  Lord  is  dealing  boun- 
tifully with  me  in  this  respect,  far  beyond  my  hopes.  A 
few  days  ago,  I  solemnized  another  marriage,  for  which 
I  received  ten  dollars.  Some  of  my  friends  would  have 
been  glad  to  have  had  a  contribution  for  me  rather  than 
for  the  A.  B.  S.  last  Friday.  But  under  present  circum- 
stances, I  greatly  preferred  that  it  should  be  for  the  latter. 
And  what  do  you  think  the  Lord  sent  me?  The  very 
next  day  he  sent  me  one  hundred  dollars,  just  as  unex- 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


233 


pectedly  as  if  it  had  come  from  the  moon.  It  was  a  pre- 
sent from  the  episcopalians.  I  was  politely  requested  to 
accept  the  same,  as  a  testimony  of  the  affection  and  re- 
gard of  the  congregation  of  St.  James's  Church.  You 
know  I  brought  from  Beverly  about  fifty  dollars.  I  have 
now  with  me  one  hundred  and  sixty-four,  and  do  not  owe 
in  this  place  more  than  four.  If  our  oil  continues  to 
increase  at  this  rate,  we  shall  soon  be  able  to  pay  our 
debts. 

Wilmington,  Jan.  30,  1317. 

I  have  just  completed  the  second  reading  of  your  most 
welcome  and  endearing  letter,  which  I  received  this  eve- 
ning. The  advice,  or  rather  caution,  which  you  were  so 
kind  as  to  give  me,  "  Not  to  forget  the  object  for  which  I 
came  to  this  place,"  was  somewhat  needed.  I  had  un- 
questionably injured  my  feeble  health  by  too  great  exer- 
tions. I  am  more  and  more  impressed  with  the  truth  of  a 
remark  which  my  much  respected  friend  and  benefactor, 
Dr.  Fisher,  made  to  me  some  years  ago,  that  my  com- 
plaints were  not  of  a  nature  to  be  thrown  off  by  effort.  I 
am  not  conscious,  however,  of  doing  wrong  in  preparing 
and  preaching  my  masonic  sermon,  or  in  writing  those 
long  letters  to  you  and  P. 

Dear  brother  T.  !  and  is  he  gone  ?  Alas,  my  brother. 
I  had  fondly  anticipated  the  pleasure  of  greeting  him  as 
my  minister  at  my  return.  His  sermon  upon  Luke  23: 
39 — 43,  (Lord,  remember  me,  &,c.)  was  one  of  the  best 
that  I  ever  heard  or  read.  Very  rarely  have  I  been  so 
much  impressed  or  instructed  by  a  sermon.  And  I  trust 
I  can  say  still  more  without  violating  the  truth — that  I  not 
only  found  it  sweet  to  my  taste,  but  health  to  my  soul. 
As  I  was  meditating  upon  it  one  morning,  I  was  affected 
even  to  tears  ;  which  you  know  is  very  uncommon  for  me. 
I  arose  and  wrote  the  following  lines,  which  I  wish  you  to 
consider  as  a  memorial  of  mv  much  respected  and  dear 
brother  T. 


If  earthly  comforts  are  in  store 

And  health  and  plenty  smile  once  more, 

Lest  I  should  then  ungrateful  be, 

In  mercy,  Lord,  remember  me. 

20* 


234  MISCELLANEOUS. 

Or  if  afflictions  must  prevail, 
And  greater  trials  still  assail, 
That  I  may  ne'er  repine  at  thee, 
In  mercy,  Lord,  remember  me. 

When  on  the  bed  of  death  I  lie, 
Soon  from  the  world  and  time  to  fly, 
That  I  may  gain  the  victory, 
In  mercy,  Lord,  remember  me. 

And  when  my  naked  soul  shall  rise 
To  God,  who  gave  it,  in  the  skies, 
That  I  thy  smiling  face  may  see, 
In  mercy,  Lord,  remember  me. 

When  shouting  millions  shall  descend, 
And  Gabriel's  trumpet  nature  rend, 
My  sleeping  dust  from  death  to  free, 
In  mercy,  Lord,  remember  me. 

When  at  thy  dreadful  bar  I  stand, 
With  countless  hosts  on  either  hand, 
Thy  vengeance  and  thy  grace  to  see, 
In  mercy,  Lord,  remember  me. 

And  when  the  wicked  must  retire, 
To  dwell  in  everlasting  fire, 
May  I,  dear  Jesus,  dwell  with  thee, 
And  thou  in  love  remember  me. 

Long  as  the  heavenly  arches  glow, 
Long  as  the  rapt'rous  anthems  flow, 
Thou  who  didst  bleed  on  Calvary, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  remember  me. 

If  I  am  not  deceived,  my  love  and  gratitude  to  my  dear 
brethren  and  friends,  who  do  not  choose  to  have  Mr.  T. 
for  their  minister,  remain  undiminished.  They  have  had 
much  more  opportunity  to  judge  in  this  case  than  T.  God 
forbid  that  I  should  have  the  least  wish  to  impose  upon 
them  a  minister,  who  is  not  the  man  of  their  choice. 
Whomever  my  beloved  people  may  choose  to  be  mv  suc- 
cessor, I  feel  prepared  to  embrace  him,  as  one  of  my  dear- 
est brothers,  with  all  the  feelings  of  a  fond  and  respectful 
parishioner,  and  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  strengthen  his 
hands  and  encourage  his  heart,  and  promote  his  useful- 
ness among  the  dear  sheep  and  lambs,  and  precious  im- 
mortals, whose  welfare  must  forever  remain  engraven  on 


MILTON    AND    YOUNG.  235 

my  heart;  unless  he  should  appear  to  be  a  man  of  no 
religion,  or  of  contemptible  talents. 

Wilmington,  Feb.  2,  1817. 

My  dear  Brother  R. — My  health  is,  on  the  whole, 
very  much  as  it  has  been  for  several  months.  My  limbs 
have  gained  a  little  strength,  to  counterbalance  which,  I 
have  been  almost  wholly  confined  to  the  house  for  four 
weeks.  To-day,  however,  I  have  ventured  out  and 
preached  once.  I  find  it  will  not  answer  for  me  to  make 
much  effort  at  study,  or  at  any  thing  else.  As  for  under- 
taking to  instruct  a  school,  it  is  out  of  the  question,  unless 
my  health  should  be  greatly  improved,  of  which  the  pros- 
pect is  not  very  encouraging.  I  have  manifestly  injured 
my  health  by  preaching,  and  by  other  efforts.  I  am  now 
trying  the  experiment  of  laziness,  and  I  am  inclined  to 
think  it  the  best  remedy  I  can  take.  As  I  do  not  find  it 
comfortable  to  sit  perfectly  idle  all  day,  and  am  unable  to 
go  out,  and  have  but  little  company,  I  generally  spend  a 
few  hours  every  day,  in  pursuits  which  require  almost  no 
effort,  and  such  as  I  find  most  agreeable  at  the  time. 
The  moment  any  pursuit  becomes  in  the  least  degree  irk- 
some, I  discontinue  it.  I  am  happily  accommodated  with 
a  study,  and  have  a  comfortable  supply  of  books.  I  have 
read  Milton's  Paradise  Lost  and  Regained,  and  have  been 
considerably  disappointed  in  both,  although  in  different 
ways.  I  have  not  read  them  before  for  about  fifteen 
years,  in  which  time  you  may  well  suppose  my  mind 
would  undergo  very  considerable  changes.  I  was  much 
more  pleased  with  Paradise  Lost  than  I  expected.  I  was 
surprised  to  find  it  contain  so  much  theology — so  much 
correct  sentiment.  I  am  much  more  disposed  to  be  in 
love  with  his  Eve,  than  I  was  before.  She  has  much 
more  intellect  than  I  had  supposed,  and  is,  on  the  whole, 
several  degrees  superior  to  Narcissa.  I  must  acknowl- 
edge, that  some  of  my  remarks  on  Paradise  Lost,  have 
been  too  severe.  I  still,  however,  think  it  inferior  to  the 
immortal  "  Night  Thoughts,"  for  which  my  esteem  is  by 
no  means  diminished  by  a  perusal.  I  feel  it  more  and 
more  desirable  to  publish  this  work  with  notes;  but  alas, 
when  shall  I  be  able  to  do  it  ?  But  as  for  Paradise  Re- 
gained, although  in  the  latter  part  of  it  there  are  some 
good  sentiments,  well  expressed,  yet,  considering  the  dig- 


236  DWIGHT    AND    EDWARDS. 

nity  of  the  subject,  the  work  appears  truly  contemptible. 
Had  there  been  nothing  to  recommend  it  but  its  merit, 
surely  it  would  never  have  been  favored  with  a  second 
edition.  But,  as  it  is  the  work  of  the  immortal  Milton,  it 
would  be  literary  heresy  not  to  admire  it.  I  have  nearly 
the  same  opinion  of  Dwight's  "  Conquest."  I  feel  the 
more  confident  in  my  judgment  of  this  work,  as  from  my 
love  and  admiration  of  the  author,  I  think  that  it  is  not 
possible  that  I  should  have  any  prejudice  against  it. 
Though,  with  very  great  effort,  I  have  read  the  greater 
part  of  it,  I  could  never  force  myself  to  read  it  quite 
through.  He  was  very  unfortunate  in  the  choice  of  his 
subject,  and  perhaps  still  more  so  in  the  execution.  Be- 
sides, I  am  much  displeased  with  the  plan  of  uniting  fic- 
tion with  sacred  history,  and  therefore  I  must  be  exceed- 
ingly opposed  to  such  works  as  the  Death  of  Abel,  the 
Life  of  Joseph,  the  Sacred  Dramas  of  Miss  More,  etc., 
with  whatever  talents  they  might  be  executed.  But  I  had 
made  up  my  opinion  with  regard  to  the  "  Conquest,"  be- 
fore I  had  any  such  scruples.  There  are  some  other  of 
Dwight's  publications  which  I  hope  will  not  be  republish- 
ed, particularly  his  "  Remarks  upon  the  Review  of  Inche- 
quin's  Letters,"  which,  although  written  with  talent,  and 
containing  much  information,  are  far  beneath  the  dignity 
of  the  most  excellent  college  president  that  the  world  has 
ever  seen.  Edwards  and  Dwight  were  the  glory  of  New- 
England.  Alas,  alas,  the  glory  is  departed.  And  yet  we 
have  reason  to  be  thankful  that  these  brightest  stars  of  our 
hemisphere  will  still  shine,  reflected  from  their  golden 
pages,  till  their  light  is  obscured  and  lost  in  the  blaze  of 
millennial  day. 

Wilmington,  March  17,  1C17. 
My  very  dear  Companion, — I  have  already  informed 
you,  that  I  expected  to  visit  Charleston.  I  am  not  certain 
whether  I  mentioned  in  my  last,  which  was  written  in 
very  great  haste,  that  I  had  received  a  very  affectionate 
invitation  from  Dr.  Palmer,  one  of  the  good  ministers  of 
that  city,  to  come  and  spend  "  a  number  of  weeks"  with 
him.  In  order  to  relieve  my  mind  from  the  fear  of  being 
burdensome  to  any  one,  he  is  kind  enough  to  add,  "  both 
Mrs.  Palmer  and  myself  will  feel  ourselves  quite  gratified 
by  such  a  visit."     Is  it  not  wonderful  that  I  should  receive 


scott's  commentary.  237 

such  an  invitation  from  utter  strangers,  more  than  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  distant  ?  Surely  we  have  addi- 
tional reason  to  thank  God,  and  take  courage,  and  trust 
in  him  for  the  supply  of  all  our  wants.  To-morrow  I  ex- 
pect to  sail ;  but  possibly  I  may  have  to  wait  a  week  for 
wind. 

You  will  perceive  by  the  accompanying  printed  recom- 
mendation, that  I  have  been  attempting  to  dispose  of  some 
sets  of  Scott. 

Yesterday  I  preached,  probably  for  the  last  time  in  this 
place.  The  strength  of  my  wrists  has  increased  to  such 
a  degree,  that  I  have  shaved  myself  several  times,  without 
any  pain  or  sensible  injury.  Though  I  long  to  see  my 
dear  wife,  and  children,  and  parents,  and  northern  friends, 
yet  I  desire  to  be  thankful,  that  I  am  by  no  means  dis- 
contented. If  I  am  not  deceived,  I  continue  to  taste  that 
the  Lord  is  gracious,  and  find  every  day,  that  there  is  com- 
fort in  reading  the  scriptures,  and  meditating  upon  the 
exceeding  great  and  precious  promises  of  grace. 
Yours  most  tenderly, 

Joseph  Emerson. 

In  the  printed  recommendation  abm-p  rpfprred  to.  my 
brother  gives  his  high  estimate  of  Scott,  as  will  be  seen 
by  a  brief  extract  I  shall  here  subjoin.  I  can  cheerfully 
subscribe  to  his  testimony  in  its  favor,  by  saying,  that  the 
more  I  have  used  this  commentary,  the  more  highly  I 
prize  it.  When  1  knew  not  a  tenth  part  so  much  about 
it  as  I  now  do,  I  had  not  so  high  an  opinion  of  its  merits, 
compared  with  other  works  of  the  kind.  Doubtless  many 
have  too  low  an  opinion  of  the  work,  from  a  want  of  thor- 
ough acquaintance  with  it.  Scott  often  puts  into  a  single 
sentence  or  two,  the  marrow  of  long  and  labored  criti- 
cisms by  his  predecessors;  and  these  simple  sentences, 
like  inspiration  itself,  while  they  readily  yield  good  knowl- 
edge to  the  unlearned  or  the  cursory  reader,  are  often 
found  to  pour  forth  a  rich  abundance  to  one  who  will  pa- 
tiently study  their  full  import.  A  single  adjective  of  his, 
will  sometimes  contain  all  that  Owen  has  in  a  long  para- 
graph. Still,  there  are  other  commentaries  that  are  bet- 
ter fitted  for  certain  purposes.  The  style  is  inferior  to 
that  of  the  admirable  Doddridge. 


238  scott's  commentary. 

My  brother  did  much,  both  before  and  after  this  period, 
to  extend  the  circulation  of  this  work.  He  wished  no 
family  to  be  without  it,  where  the  English  language  is  read. 
Still  he  would  not  have  us  place  implicit  confidence  in 
any  man's  opinion  respecting  the  import  of  that  Divine 
Word,  which  we  are  to  read  for  ourselves.  The  follow- 
ing are  some  of  his  remarks,  as  contained  in  the  recom- 
mendation, both  as  to  the  use  of  commentaries  in  general, 
and  as  to  the  value  of  this  in  particular. 

Now,  as  the  bible  is  the  best  of  books,  the  great  foun- 
tain, the  exhaustless  ocean  of  divine  truth  ;  so,  next  to 
the  bible,  we  may  consider  those  books  the  best,  which 
are  best  suited  to  explain  and  impress  its  holy  contents. 
Though  some  parts  of  scripture  are  so  plain  as  to  need 
no  comment,  yet  this  is  far  from  being  the  case  with 
all.  Not  only  some  parts  of  Paul's  Epistles,  but  many 
other  parts  of  the  Bible,  are  hard  to  be  understood.  When 
the  Ethiopian  eunuch  was  reading  a  passage  of  Isaiah, 
Philip  said  to  him,  "  Understandest  thou  what  thou  read- 
est  ?"  "  How  can  I,"  said  he,  "  except  some  man  should 
guide  me  ?"  And  do  we  not  find,  at  the  present  day, 
that  in  connexion  with  other  means,  the  preaching  and 
writings  of  great  and  good  men,  may  be  highly  useful  in 
guiding  us  to  a  right  understanding  of  the  most  deep  and 
difficult  parts  of  the  bible  1  And  we  not  only  need  to 
have  the  scriptures  explained,  that  we  may  understand 
them  ;  but,  so  hard  are  our  hearts,  we  need  to  have  them 
illustrated  and  enforced,  that  we  may  feel  and  practice 
them.  Perhaps  no  human  composition  is  more  useful  for 
both  these  purposes,  than  a  good  commentary.  At  the 
first  reading  of  such  a  work,  most  persons  will  be  sur- 
prised to  find  how  many  obvious  and  interesting  things 
had  escaped  their  notice,  even  in  passages  the  most  fa- 
miliar. 

But  though  such  a  commentary  may  be  very  useful  for 
reading  through  in  course,  yet  perhaps  it  is  still  more 
useful  for  occasional  consultation. — To  those  who  delight 
in  the  law  of  the  Lord,  and  make  it  their  meditation  day 
and  night,  passages  will  frequently  occur  which  will  pe- 
culiarly engage  their  attention,  and  excite  an  ardent  de- 
Bire  for  explanation  or  illustration.  O,  how  precious, 
then,  to  have   an  able  commentator   at   hand,  to  whom 


USE    OF    COMMENTARIES.  239 

they  may  repair  to  solve  their  difficulties,  and  to  pour  out 
to  them  the  spiritual  waters,  for  which  they  are  thirsting 
and  panting.  Though  they  may  not  always  gain  com- 
plete satisfaction,  their  commentator  will  rarely  fail  of 
affording  them  some  light ;  and  by  such  consultation,  they 
will  often  gain  more  instruction,  and  more  refreshment 
and  comfort  to  their  souls,  in  a  few  minutes,  than  by 
pursuing  a  regular  course  of  reading  for  an  hour. — Each 
method,  however,  has  its  peculiar  advantages,  and  neither 
should  be  pursued  to  the  exclusion  of  the  other.  There 
is  still  another  way,  in  which,  to  many,  a  commentary  may 
be  as  useful  as  in  either  of  these.  It  is  to  read  the  scrip- 
tures in  course,  marking  only  a  few  passages  which  may 
seem  peculiarly  to  need  explaining,  and  read  the  com- 
ments upon  them,  after  we  have  thus  read  several  chap- 
ters, or  at  the  end  of  each  chapter.  But  in  whatever  man- 
ner we  may  use  such  writings,  we  should  deal  with  them, 
as  with  all  human  compositions  upon  spiritual  subjects, 
bringing  them  to  the  law  and  to  the  testimony,  receiving 
or  rejecting  them,  according  as  they  appear  to  agree  or 
disagree  with  the  unerring  standard. 

I  have  sometimes  been  struck  and  delighted  with  the 
rapid  progress  of  christians,  who  were  thus  continually 
feeding  and  feasting  their  souls  upon  the  milk  of  the  word 
and  the  bread  of  life.  And  there  is  reason  to  believe  that 
multitudes,  now  in  heaven,  have  been  exceedingly  in- 
structed, comforted,  and  built  up  in  the  most  holy  faith, 
by  the  expositions  of  Baxter,  Poole,  Burkitt,  Henry,  Dod- 
dridge, Guyse,  Orton,  etc. 

Within  a  few  years  a  commentary  has  appeared  which 
has  excited  unusual  attention.  From  particular  examina- 
tion, and  the  concurring  testimony  of  thousands,  I  am  in- 
duced to  think  it  better  for  most  people,  than  either  of  the 
above-named  ;  and  there  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind,  that  it 
is  far  superior  to  all  others — This  is  Scott's  Family  Bi- 
ble, with  Notes,  etc.  I  have  had  his  family  bible 
about  ten  years;  and,  though  much  pleased  with  it  at 
first,  I  have  found  it  to  improve  upon  more  intimate  ac- 
quaintance. So  much  has  it  instructed  and  delighted  me, 
that  I  have  considered  it  one  of  the  greatest  blessings, 
with  which  God  has  been  pleased  to  distinguish  this  age 
of  wonders. 


240  ARRIVAL    AT    CHARLESTON. 

It  has  afforded  me  much  satisfaction,  to  see  this  work 
highly  recommended  by  a  considerable  number  of  the 
most  respectable  ministers  of  my  acquaintance. 

But  the  opinions  of  persons  in  the  common  walks  of 
life,  for  whom  this  work  was  particularly  designed,  is  per- 
haps still  more  decisive,  to  shew  that  it  is  peculiarly  use- 
ful for  such.  After  much  inquiry,  I  found  that  such  per- 
sons who  have  had  opportunity  to  judge,  have  been  uni- 
formly and  strongly  in  its  favor.  Many  have  represented 
it  as  an  inestimable  treasure — but  I  have  not  known  any 
who  have  regretted  their  trouble  or  expense  in  procuring  it. 

It  has  pleased  God  in  his  righteous  Providence  to  cut 
me  off  almost  entirely  from  ministerial  labors  and  useful- 
ness, in  the  midst  of  my  days.  One  of  the  most  comfort- 
ing alleviations  of  this  great  trial,  has  been  the  reflection, 
that  I  have  been  enabled,  in  former  years,  to  dispose  of 
more  than  seventy  sets  of  this  admirable  commentary, 
which  will  probably  continue  to  be  useful  for  ages,  after 
I  shall  be  laid  in  the  dust.  And  I  trust  it  would  be  no 
less  consoling  and  delightsome,  if  I  could  circulate  as 
many  more. 

Charleston,  8.  C.March  21,  1817. 

After  a  safe  passage  of  thirty  hours,  I  arrived  in  this 
city  the  day  before  yesterday,  a  little  before  sunset.  But 
in  consequence  of  sea-sickness  and  abundance  of  com- 
pany, I  have  not  before  been  able  to  begin  a  letter. 

March  23. — I  was  engaged  Saturday  evening  and  some 
part  of  yesterday  in  refitting  and  preaching  a  sermon, 
which  I  had  not  preached  for  several  years.  The  rest  of 
the  day,  yesterday  and  evening,  was  devoted  to  worship 
and  company.  I  had  not  time  even  to  read  my  four  pages 
in  the  bible,  which  is  my  daily  and  delightful  task. 

I  have  not  now  time,  nor  strength,  to  give  you  any  par- 
ticulars of  my  situation,  which  continues  to  be  as  agree- 
able as  you  can  easily  suppose.  The  company,  which  I 
receive,  is  of  the  most  agreeable  kind — intelligent,  pious, 
sociable,  and  very  attentive  to  my  observations. 

Charleston,  April  14,  1817. 

1  am  trying  to  do  something  for  the  support  of  my  dear 
family  ;  but  hope  my  exertions  will  not  injure  my  health. 
You    know   my  fondness   for   astronomy.     Some   of  my 


LECTURES  ON  ASTRONOMY.  241 

friends  have  persuaded  me  to  deliver  a  few  lectures  upon 
this  noble  science,  for  which  I  have  reason  to  expect  a 
liberal  compensation.  My  whole  strength  therefore  must 
be  devoted  to  making  preparation  for  these  lectures.  The 
first  lecture  I  have  in  a  great  measure  written,  and  expect 
to  deliver  in  three  days.  I  expect  to  give  five  or  six  in 
the  whole.  O  that  I  may  be  the  means  of  elevating  the 
souls  of  my  friends  and  patrons  to  the  great  Contriver, 
Builder,  and  Governor  of  all  worlds. 

Dr.  Leland,  one  of  the  good  ministers  of  this  city,  ex- 
pects to  take  a  long  journey  in  a  few  days,  to  be  absent  a 
number  of  weeks,  and  wishes  me  to  supply  his  pulpit,  to 
which  I  have  consented.  I  desire  to  be  thankful,  that  I 
can  preach,  when  the  weather  is  favorable,  without  the 
least  danger  to  my  health.  It  may  be  my  duty,  therefore, 
to  remain  in  this  delightful  city  till  June.  I  feel  quite  as 
much  at  home  here,  and  as  happy,  as  I  did  at  Connecti- 
cut. Mrs.  P.,  who  is  another  Mrs.  B.,  is  from  Weathers- 
field,  in  Connecticut.  Others,  as  well  as  she,  have  en- 
deared themselves  to  me  by  their  kindness.  But  I  have 
not  time  to  state  particulars.     I   must  just  add,  however, 

that  Dr.  ■  appears  to  be  one  of  the  meekest,  humblest, 

loveliest  christians,  that  I  was  ever  acquainted  with.  His 
addresses  at  the  communion,  Sabbath  before  last,  were 
wonderful.  He  is  in  feeble  health  ;  and  is  sometimes  so 
languid  and  drooping,  that  he  can  hardly  speak.  Dear 
man,  I  know  well — alas  !  too  well  I  know,  how  to  pity 
him  ;  but  not  from  late  experience.  Notwithstanding  all 
my  infirmities,  privations,  and  trials,  my  soul  has  had  al- 
most one  continued  feast  of  cheerfulness  for  months. 
Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul. 

Charleston,  April  25,  1817. 

Besides  my  board  and  much  kind  treatment,  I  have 
received  presents  to  a  considerable  amount. 

He  that  feeds  the  ravens,  will  give  his  children  bread. 
O  that  he  would  feed  us  with  the  bread  of  life,  from  day 
to  day,  and  enable  us  to  be  faithful  to  our  dear  offspring. 

April  23. — I  have  peculiar   reason  to  thank  God,  and 
take  courage,  that  my  health  continues   improving,  not- 
withstanding the  warmth  of  the  season,  and  the  efforts 
21 


242  BENEFACTIONS. 

which  I  make  in  preparing  and  delivering  my  lectures, 
and    preaching   occasionally. 

Charleston,  May  5,  1817. 

Though,  perhaps,  I  ought  to  devote  all  my  strength  to- 
day and  to-morrow,  to  my  sixth  lecture  on  astronomy,  I 
cannot  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  stating  two  or  three 
smiles  of  divine  providence.  My  fifth-  lecture  on  astron- 
omy was  better  attended  than  any  preceding.  I  was  ena- 
bled to  preach  yesterday  with  uncommon  ease  and  com- 
fort to  myself;  and  I  have  reason  to  hope,  with  some  de- 
gree of  acceptance  and  edification  to  others.  1  preached 
kneeling;  as  I  have  done  three  or  four  times  before  in 
this  city.  I  believe  I  enjoy  a  vigor  of  body  and  mind, 
greater  than  I  have  enjoyed  for  two  or  three  years  before. 

About  ten  hours  ago,  Dr.  Palmer  put  a  letter  into  my 
hand,  saying,  "  The  Lord  will  provide."  I  opened  it.  It 
contained  no  writing  within  or   without;  but  it  enclosed 

thirty   dollars.     Dr.  P.  said  it  came  from  Mr. ,  with 

whom  I  had  no  acquaintance.  "  When  communications 
are  made  in  this  way,"  said  our  dear  friend  Mrs.  P.,  while 
her  eyes  sparkled  with  joy  ;  "  when  communications  are 
made  in  this  way,  they  must  not  be  mentioned."  "  I 
must  tell  it  to  my  wife,"  said  I. 

In  this  and  other  letters,  my  brother  mentions,  with 
minute  particularity  and  much  gratitude,  the  presents  he 
received  from  known  and  unknown  sources.  As  the  good 
people  here  became  acquainted  with  the  fact,  that  his  re- 
sources for  the  support  of  himself  and  his  family,  were  near- 
ly cut  off  by  the  loss  of  his  health,  they  showed  an  unso- 
licited generosity  which  was  as  liberal  in  extent  as  it  was 
delicate  in  the  mode  of  its  conferment.  I  do  not  feel 
noyself  quite  authorized  to  give  the  names  of  those  kind 
donors  who  were  known  to  him.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that 
several  of  them  have  been  known  at  the  North  by  the  re- 
ports of  other  benevolent  deeds. 

Charleston,  May  3,  1817. 

Last  evening,  I  gave  my  eighth  and  last  lecture  upon 
astronomy,  to  a  small,  but  very  attentive  and  solemn  au- 
dience. Yes,  my  dear,  the  audience  was  solemn;  for 
the    lecture,  being   on  the  "instructions  of  astronomy," 


ASTRONOMICAL  LECTURES.  243 

was  in  a  great  measure  theological.  If  ever  I  delivered 
any  discourse,  that  was  suited  to  magnify  the  condescen- 
sion of  Jehovah,  and  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
in  saving  them  that  were  lost,  it  was  the  latter  part  of  that 
lecture.  I  endeavored  to  prove,  and  I  believe  I  did 
prove,  that  the  glorious  Savior  never  died  for  any  crea- 
ture but  man  ;  and  that,  though  this  earth  is  "  the  bed- 
lam of  the  universe,"  God  has  greatly  distinguished  it 
above  all  the  thousands  of  millions  of  inhabited  worlds, 
with  which  he  has  sprinkled  and  enriched  immensity. 

I  have  had  an  earnest  request  from  a  beloved  christian 
minister,  to  repeat  my  course  of  astronomical  lectures, 
who  assures  me  that  he  thinks  them  "  very  interesting 
and  very  profitable."  He  has  been  kind  enough  to  get  a 
number  of  cards  printed,  as  tickets  for  the  second  course, 
which  he  is  now  selling.  His  name  is  O,  an  excellent, 
warm-hearted,  humble,  missionary  man,  whose  meat  and 
drink  is  to  do  the  will  of  his  heavenly  father.  Mr.  J.  T. 
whom  I  believe  you  know,  has  been  exceedingly  kind  in 
patronizing  my  lectures.  He  is  brother  to  Mr.  A.  Tyler, 
who  was  so  kind  to  me  at  Wilmington. 

Charleston,   S.  C.  June  15,  1817. 

By  the  great  goodness  and  mercy  of  our  God,  I  have 
been  enabled  to  complete  my  second  course  of  astronom- 
ical lectures.  This  course  has  been  better  attended,  in 
all  respects,  and  I  hope,  better  delivered,  than  the  first. 
The  avails  exceed  one  hundred  dollars.  The  avails  of 
both  courses,  after  defraying  the  expenses,  amount  to 
about  two  hundred  dollars.  Mr.  W.  an  intelligent  young 
gentleman  from  Boston,  who  heard  my  concluding  lec- 
ture, was  kind  enough  to  observe,  that  if  I  would  de- 
liver the  course  in  Boston,  he  should  be  happy  to  render 
me  every  aid  in  his  power,  in  procuring  patronage.  It  is 
very  possible  I  shall  make  the  attempt  there  within  a 
year.  If  I  should  be  successful  in  this,  it  is  possible  that 
I  may  be  able  to  supply  my  dear  family  with  the  comforts 
of  life,  with  more  ease,  and  with  less  danger  to  my  health, 
in  this  way,  than  in  any  other.  Though  my  health  is 
considerably,  and  I  hope,  permanently  improved,  I  do 
not  dare  to  hope  that  I  shall  be  able,  within  three  or  four 
years,  to  do  more  than  to  deliver  my  astronomical  lee- 
tures  a  few  times  in  a  year,  preach  occasionally  to  fair- 


244 


GRATITUDE    TO    FRIENDS. 


weather  attendants,  prepare  and  publish  four  or  five  little 
books,  and  pursue  a  course  of  studies  to  qualify  myself,  as 
far  as  possible,  to  take  the  charge  or  superintendence  of 
a  seminary  for  teachers,  if  ever  I  should  have  health  for 
such  an  undertaking.  I  do  not  indulge  the  least  hope  of 
ever  being  able  to  take  the  pastoral  charge  of  any  people. 
It  would  only  prepare  the  way  for  the  pangs  of  dismission. 

June  16. — I  have  just  received  a  present  from — I  know 
not  whom — six  very  nice  pairs  of  white  cotton  stockings, 
twelve  neck  cloths,  and  eight  shirts.  What  shall  we 
render  to  our  divine  benefactor ! 

To  Miss  N.  Ingersoll,  who  has  since  followed  her  la- 
mented brother  before  mentioned,  he  thus  writes. 

Charleston,  S.  C.  June  \6,  1817. 

I  am  more  affected,  than  surprised,  to  hear  of  your 
feeble  health.  Though  it  may  be  gain  for  you  to  depart, 
yet  for  the  sake  of  your  dear  mother  and  friends,  I  should 
much  prefer  your  tarrying  a  few  years  longer  if  the  Lord 
will.  But  if  your  work  is  done,  if  your  earthly  course  is 
finished,  and  the  Savior  is  pleased  to  call  you  to  occupy  a 
more  exalted  station  in  a  better  world,  I  cannot  wish  you 
to  stay. 

Mr.  B.  can  tell  you  particularly  of  the  blessings,  which 
I  have  here  received  from  the  hand  of  infinite  mercy. 
They  have  been  numerous  and  wonderful,  and  attended 
with  peculiar  endearments.  One  of  the  greatest  of  these 
endearments,  is  the  full  persuasion,  that  these  mercies 
are  sent  in  answer  to  the  prayers  of  those,  with  whom  I 
have  so  many  hundreds  of  times  delighted  to  pray,  with 
whom  I  hope  forever  to  sing  and  shout  redeeming  love  and 
renovating  grace,  in  those  happy  mansions,  where  the  an- 
guish of  separation  we  shall  remember  no  more.  I  still 
feel,  and  delight  to  feel,  that  my  dear  brethren  and  sisters, 
whom  I  once  had  the  distinguished  honor  to  regard  as 
my  flock,  are  still  feeding  me,  clothing  me,  and  supply- 
ing my  every  want,  by  means  of  their  prayers,  as  really 
as  when  they  ministered  to  me  of  their  substance.  I 
hope,  however,  I  do  not,  on  this  account,  feel  the  less 
grateful  to  the  dear  christians  in  this  city,  by  whose  liber- 
ality my  every  want  is  supplied  ;  nor  less  thankful  to  him, 
from  whom  cometh  down  every  good  and  perfect  gift. 


LECTURES    ON    THE    MILLENNIUM.  245 

Give  my  love  to  all  your  connections,  that  you  may  see, 
and    to  all   our    dear  brothers   and  sisters,  my   joy   and 
crown,  whom  I  exceedingly  love  in  the  Lord. 
Yours  most  cordially, 

Joseph  Emerson. 

Charleston,  S.  C.  June  25,  1817. 

My  dearest  Companion, — I  have  engaged  a  passage 
on  board  the  brig  Mount  Pleasant.  Seven  or  eight  have 
engaged  passages,  who,  I  hope,  are  all  christians,  among 
whom  is  the  owner  of  the  brig.  There  are  accommoda- 
tions for  about  as  many  more,  so  that  I  confidently  hope 
that  a  majority  of  the  passengers  will  be  sincere  friends 
to  Christ  and  everlasting  friends  to  each  other.  Will 
not  this  be  delightful.  If  I  am  not  wofully  deceived, 
I  do  feel  an  ardent  and  increasing  love  for  those,  who 
appear  to  love  my  Savior,  whatever  be  their  condition, 
denomination,  or  color,  with  whom  I  confidently  hope 
to  spend  an  eternity  of  bliss  and  praise.  The  dark- 
est sign  that  I  now  know  of  myself,  is,  that  I  have  scarce- 
ly had  a  dark  or  gloomy  hour  since  I  left  Beverly  ;  a  cir- 
cumstance, which  1  believe  is  very  uncommon  for  so 
long  a  time,  except  for  eminent  christians,  the  character 
of  which  I  never  dared  to  consider  as  belonging  to  me. 
Will  it  not  be  delightful  to  have  a  cabin  become  a  Bethel, 
where  a  majority  of  the  occupants  will  unitedly  and  daily 
worship  the  Father  in  spirit  and  in  truth  ?  I  have  been 
dreading  my  passage  for  fear  that  I  should  not  only  be 
sea-sick,  but  should  be  denied  the  precious  sight  of  a 
christian  smile,  from  Charleston  to  Boston.  But  now  I 
anticipate  the  voyage  with  a  degree  of  fondness,  which  I 
fear  will  be   in  some  measure  disappointed. 

Since  I  have  been  supplying  for  Dr.  Leland,  I  have 
been  delivering  to  his  people  a  course  of  lectures  upon  the 
millennium,  almost  every  word  of  which  I  have  written. 
I  find  the  benefit  of  my  short  hand  to  be  greater  and 
greater.  These  lectures  I  think  of  publishing  within  a 
few  months.  My  object  in  these  lectures  is  not  to  gratify 
vain  curiosity  ;  but  to  comfort  the  people  of  God,  and  to 
rouse  and  encourage  them  to  the  greatest  possible  exer- 
tions for  the  advancement  of  that  kingdom,  which  shall 
infinitely  outshine  and  outlast  every  other.  Never  before, 
21* 


246  SUMMARY    OF    LABORS    IN    CHARLESTON. 

did  I  find  half  the  satisfaction  in  studying  this  glorious 
and  amazing  subject. 

June  26. — I  preached  last  evening,  probably  for  the 
last  time  in  this  city.  If  we  should  not  sail  on  Saturday, 
however,  I  shall  undoubtedly  preach  to  Dr.  Leland's  peo- 
ple twice  more,  as  Mr.  Luther  will  not  put  to  sea  on  the 
Sabbath. 

I  have  been  in  this  city  and  in  this  dear  family,  about 
fourteen  weeks.  In  that  time,  I  have  formed  a  number 
of  very  endearing  acquaintances  and  received  favors  in 
abundance.  I  have  written  sixteen  long  lectures,  more 
than  a  dozen  long  letters,  preached  and  lectured  about 
forty-four  times,  read  some,  visited  considerably,  attend- 
ed a  few  conference  and  prayer  meetings,  and  conversed 
much  at  home,  and  abroad.  And  yet,  considering  that 
the  recovery  and  establishment  of  my  health,  was  the 
great  object  of  my  southern  expedition,  1  have  rather 
tried  to  see  how  little  I  could  do,  than  how  much.  Con- 
sidering how  much  I  have  done,  and  how  warm  the 
weather  has  been  for  several  weeks,  I  am  astonished  to 
find  how  much  strength  and  vigor  I  enjoy.  My  limbs  are 
more  than  twice  as  strong  as  when  I  left  you.  Bless  the 
Lord,  O  my  soul. 

After  his  return,  his  health  and  other  circumstances 
were  such,  that  he  concluded  to  open  a  seminary  for 
teachers  at  an  earlier  period  than  he  had  anticipated. 
Byfield,  Mass.  was  the  place  upon  which  he  fixed  for  this 
purpose,  and  to  which  he  removed  his  family,  sometime 
previous  to  the  ensuing  spring. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


FROM  THE  ESTABLISHMENT  OF   HIS  SEMINARY  AT    BYFIELD 
TO    HIS    REMOVAL    TO    SAUGUS. 1818 1821. 


Publishes  his  lectures  on  the  millennium — Objects  of  his 
seminary — Society  for  instruction — Astronomical  lec- 
tures in  Boston — An  objection  to  the  long  millennium — 
Astronomical  lectures  published — Union  catechism  pub- 
lished. 

The  following  letter  will  afford  information  respecting  his 
work  on  the  millennium,  and  the  arrangements  for  his 
seminary. 

By  field,  March  31,  1318. 

My  dear  Brother  R. — I  have  just  returned  from 
Boston,  where  I  have  been  attending  to  the  printing  of 
my  lectures.  My  health  is  considerably  improved.  We 
have  more  encouragement  to  go  on  with  the  proposed 
seminary  and  school,  than  we  dared  to  anticipate,  and 
perhaps  as  much  as  we  ought  to  desire.  My  house  is 
much  more  commodious  than  1  expected  to  find.  The 
price  was  so  low,  that  I  thought  best  to  purchase.  It  is 
very  large,  intended  at  first  for  a  meeting  house.  After 
spending  about  five  hundred  dollars  in  repairs,  alterations, 
and  outfits,  it  will  accommodate  the  seminary,  and  school, 
and  family,  with  six  or  eight  boarders.  Finding  our- 
selves so  happily  planted  here,  it  is  not  probable  that  we 
shall  ever  remove,  until  we  remove  to  the  eternal  world. 
Perhaps  we  can  do  as  much  good  here  as  elsewhere. 

The  school  of  which  my  brother  speaks,  was  a  prepara- 
tory school  in  connexion  with  the  seminary,  and  was 
taught  by  his  wife.    The  first  year,  1  believe  he  had  about 


248 


HIS    PURPOSE    AND    PLAN    TO 


fifty  scholars   in  the  seminary ;  and  the  next  year,  about 
seventy  or  eighty. 

He  now  set  himself  systematically  to  the  great  enter- 
prise of  reforming  and  elevating  the  system  of  female  edu- 
cation. This  was  a  favorite  and  long  cherished  object, 
and  one  for  which  he  was  peculiarly  fitted,  and  to  which 
Providence  seemed  now  especially  to  call  him.  Little  did 
he  think,  when  disabled  for  the  delightful  duties  of  a  pas- 
tor and  enduring  the  pangs  of  separation  from  his  peo- 
ple, how  God  was  leading  him  forth,  through  a  sea  of 
trials,  to  a  wider  sphere  of  usefulness, — the  very  sphere 
for  which  his  hand  had  made  him  and  his  providence 
had  prepared  him.  He  was  born  for  the  very  work  of 
teaching,  and  especially  of  teaching  females.  His  spe- 
cific object  now  was,  to  render  their  education  more  solid 
and  much  more  extensive.  While  cheered  in  this  object 
by  the  favor  and  co-operation  of  many,  he  had  also  to 
meet  much  prejudice  and  opposition.  Some  seemed  hard- 
ly to  think  the  female  mind  susceptible  of  the  highest  ac- 
quisitions of  knowledge,  or  that  it  would  be  benefitted  by 
such  knowledge,  if  gained.  His  object  was  not  merely  to 
have  a  good  seminary  of  his  own,  but  also  to  benefit 
other  teachers,  and  to  raise  up  a  multitude  more,  of  the 
right  stamp,  and  ultimately  to  fill  the  land  with  such  sem- 
inaries and  schools.  Among  other  means  for  the  pro- 
motion of  this  object,  a  society  was  formed  in  connexion 
with  his  seminary,  under  the  following  name  and  regu- 
lations. 

"  SOCIETY    FOR    INSTRUCTION. 

"  It  is  not  good  that  the  soul  be  without  knowledge. 
Without  knowledge,  the  mind  is  but  a  blank,  or  a  blot. 
It  is  principally  by  means  of  instruction,  that  men  are 
raised  above  brutes,  and  one  man  exalted  above  another. 
The  fields  of  science  breathe  forth  a  fragrance  more  de- 
lightful than  spicy  mountains.  The  pleasures  of  sense  are 
poor,  compared  with  the  pleasures  of  intellection.  The 
tree  of  liberty  is  planted  by  the  hand  of  knowledge,  water- 
ed by  the  dews  of  science,  defended  by  the  bulwark  of 
understanding,  cultivated  and  pruned  by  the  fingers  of  in- 
telligence and  wisdom.  All  the  delights  and  endearments 
of  civilization  and   refinement,  are   fruits   of  knowledge. 


ELEVATE    FEMALE    EDUCATION.  249 

The  devil  and  his  angels  are  the  powers  of  darkness,  the 
foes  of  truth,  the  patrons  of  ignorance.  The  eternal  Je- 
hovah is  the  God  of  order,  the  God  of  knowledge,  the 
Father  of  lights.  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  the  light  of 
the  world,  the  sun  of  righteousness.  It  is  the  delusions 
of  Satan,  that  have  long  covered  the  earth  with  darkness, 
and  with  gross  darkness  the  people.  By  the  promotion  of 
ignorance,  he  has  long  reigned  as  the  god  of  this  world — 
he  has  maintained  an  undisputed  sway  in  iiis  vast  empire 
of  pagans,  papists,  and  Mahomedans.  Sanctified  science 
is  the  grand  weapon  to  vanquish  the  legions  of  darkness. 
It  is  principally  by  the  instrumentality  of  knowledge,  that 
sinners  are  awakened,  convicted,  converted,  and  ripened 
for  glory.  It  is  life  eternal,  to  know  the  only  true  God, 
and  Jesus  Christ  whom  he  hath  sent.  When  knowledge 
shall  fill  the  earth,  Satan  will  be  cast  out. 

"  The  advancement  of  knowledge,  then,  is  no  less  im- 
portant than  the  emancipation,  the  liberty,  the  happiness, 
of  mankind — no  less  important  than  the  salvation  of  the 
world. 

"  Impressed  with  these  considerations,  and  believing 
that  all  that  has  been  said  of  the  importance  of  education, 
has  fallen  far  below  the  reality,  that  the  best  systems  of 
instruction  are  still  imperfect,  that  those  in  common  use 
are  extremely  defective,  and  that  it  is  the  duty  of  every 
person,  if  possible,  to  do  something  for  their  improvement, 
we,  the  subscribers,  are  ardently  desirous  of  exerting  our 
individual  and  united  efforts,  for  an  object  so  important. 
We  do  therefore  unite  together,  and  bind  ourselves  by  the 
following 

"agreement. 

"We  engage,  (as  far  as  may  be  consistent  with  the 
claims  of  other  duties)  to  exert  ourselves,  to  gain  and 
communicate  as  much  information  as  possible,  relating  to 
the  best  means  and  methods  of  learning  and  teaching  the 
most  useful  branches  of  literature  and  science,  especially 
reading,  writing,  arithmetic,  composition,  and  religion. 
And  we  particularly  engage  to  use  our  endeavors,  by  con- 
versation, correspondence,  etc.,  to  assist,  encourage,  and 
animate  each  other,  in  promoting  the  great  object  of  this 
society. 
Bijtidd,  Nov,  24,  1818." 


250       ASTRONOMICAL  LECTURES  IN  BOSTON. 

This  expedient  probably  had  its  salutary  effect  at  the 
time,  in  awakening  attention,  and  concentrating  effort, 
although  I  believe  it  was  not  long  continued,  in  manner 
and  form. 

In  the  ensuing  winter  we  find  him  in  Boston,  delivering 
his  Astronomical  Lectures  to  a  popular  audience,  as  he  had 
before  been  invited  by  some  friends.  But  it  was  no  longer 
for  his  own  emolument.  As  he  had  now  a  source  of  in- 
come from  his  school  and  his  publications,  for  the  support 
of  his  family,  he  who  had  received  the  liberal  gifts  of  oth- 
ers, was  desirous,  in  his  turn,  to  aid  the  necessitous.  The 
following  notice,  from  the  Palladium,  of  Feb.  9,  1819, 
will  explain  the  specific  object  of  his  charitable  labors. 

"Public  notice  has  already  been  given,  that  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Emerson  proposes  to  give  a  course  of  Lectures  on 
Astronomy.  These  lectures,  from  the  interesting  science 
on  which  they  treat,  and  from  the  well  known  tal- 
ents of  the  lee  urer,  may  be  expected  to  afford  much  grat- 
ification and  improvement.  And  a  consideration  which 
will  be  an  additional  inducement  with  many,  to  afford 
their  patronage,  is,  that  the  whole  avails  of  these  lectures 
are  to  be  appropriated  to  the  charitable  purpose  of  aiding 
pious  and  indigent  young  ladies  in  obtaining  an  educa- 
tion, with  a  view  to  qualify  themselves  for  the  important 
business  of  teaching.  There  are  i"e\v  objects  for  which 
charity  is  solicited,  which,  in  proportion  to  the  expense, 
promises  greater  benefit  to  society. 

11  It  is  the  happiness  of  the  present  age,  that  female 
education  is  much  more  attended  to  than  it  was  in  ages 
past.  Indigent  females,  however,  many  of  whom  with 
the  advantages  of  education,  might  embellish  and  improve 
society,  are  left  without  resource.  They  are  destitute  of 
various  means  of  acquiring  an  education,  which  are  pos- 
sessed by  the  other  sex  ;  and  the  Education  Society,  it 
may  be  remarked,  do  nothing  for  females.  The  benevo- 
.  lent  object,  therefore,  of  Mr.  Emerson,  must  commend 
itself,  with  peculiar  claims,  to  every  friend  to  female  im- 
provement as  well  as  to  literature  and  religion." 

Boston,  Feb.  3, 1819. 

My  dearest  Companion, — This  evening  I  have  de- 
livered my  introductory  lecture,  and  an  address  of  nearly 


ASTRONOMICAL  LECTURES  IN  BOSTON.       251 

the  same  length,  to  a  very  attentive  audience  of  perhaps 
two  thousand  people.  But  some  think  my  lecture  and 
address  were  too  much  tinctured  with  religion,  to  gratify 
the  most  wealthy  part  of  the  assembly.  Some  ladies  have 
been  kind  enough  to  thank  me  for  the  favorable  represen- 
tations which  I  gave  of  their  sex. 

Feb.  4. — I  am  far  from  regretting  my  enterprise.  A 
very  considerable  impression  appears  to  have  been  made 
in  favor  of  the  great  object  to  which  we  are  devoting  our 
lives  ;  and  this  impression,  I  hope,  will  be  increased,  be- 
yond what  we  had  dared  to  anticipate.     Miss came 

in  last  evening,  after  lecture,  to  thank  me  with  all  her 
heart  and  soul,  for  speaking  so  favorably  of  her  sex,  and 
pleading  their  cause  so  earnestly. 

Feb.  8. — You  have  doubtless  thought  of  me  this  eve- 
ning, regretting  that  the  first  evening  on  which  persons 
are  admitted  to  my  lectures  with  tickets,  should  be  so 
rainy  and  muddy.  What  will  you  think  when  I  tell  you, 
that  this  evening  I  delivered  my  second  lecture  to  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  hearers!  I  receive  quite  as  much 
attention  here,  as  is  conducive  to  humility,  and  perhaps  a 
little  more.  Professor  F.,  after  examining  my  delineation 
of  the  sun's  orbit,  was  kind  enough  to  say  that  he  consid- 
ered it  correct,  new,  and  ingenious. 

Boston,   Feb.   11,  1819. 

My  dear  Brother  R. — The  Recorder  has  informed 
you  what  I  am  doing,  and  will  ere  long  tell  you  the  result. 
I  hope  to  have  at  least  8350,  to  carry  home  to  my  poor 
scholars. 

No  apology  was  necessary  for  the  freedom  of  your  crit- 
icism upon  my  performances.  Your  enormous  objection 
to  the  long  millennium,  I  had  well  considered  before  I 
published  my  Lectures  ;  but  perhaps  neither  you  nor  Mr. 
Bogue  has  considered,  that  the  same  objection  lies  against 
the  millennium  of  a  thousand  years  literally,  with  only 
this  difference,  that  instead  of  piling  people  up  to  the  sun, 
they  must  only  be  piled  up  to  the  moon.  It  appears  per- 
fectly reasonable,  that  after  the  commencement  of  the 
millennium,  the  population  of  the  world  will  double  once 
in  ten  years,  until  the  earth  is  full,  which  will  be  in  less 
than  200  years.  Or  if  you  allow  mankind  to  double  once 
in  20  years,  (which  is  certainly  altogether  too  long  a  time,) 


252  ANSWER    TO    AN    OBJECTION 

the  earth  will  be  full  in  less  than  400.  What  then  is  to 
be  done?  My  faith  says,  "  The  Lord  will  provide."  If 
you  will  tell  how  he  will  provide  for  600  years,  1  will  tell 
you  how  he  can  provide  for  359, 000  more.  I  should  be  very 
glad  to  have  you  review  my  Lectures.  It  might  do  good 
to  me,  and  much  more  to  the  public.  If  my  theory  is 
wrong,  I  certainly  wish  to  alter  it.  But  I  must  see  much 
more  formidable  objections  than  I  have  yet  seen,  before  I 
can  think  of  giving  it  up.  You  will  not  doubt  my  sin- 
cerity, although  you  may  think  me  enthusiastic,  when  I 
assure  you,  that  I  feel  more  and  more  confirmed  in  the 
glorious  doctrine  of  the  long  millennium.  Still  it  may  be 
incorrect.  I  do  not  claim  infallibility.  I  most  ardently 
long  to  have  the  subject  publicly  discussed,  without  one 
single  particle  of  bitterness  or  disrespect,  with  such  tem- 
per and  feelings,  as  earnest  desire  and  prayer  for  the  mil- 
lennium  is  calculated  to  inspire. 

Yours  with  increasing  affection,  J.  E. 

Such  is  the  brief  but  very  just  reply  of  my  brother,  in 
answer  to  some  extended  mathematical  calculations  which 
I  had  sent  him,  and  which  showed  that,  upon  certain  as- 
sumed data  respecting  the  increase  of  population,  the 
world  will  not  be  large  enough  for  its  millions  of  millions 
to  stand  upon,  at  the  close  of  the  long  millennium  which 
he  supposes  to  be  predicted.  So  far  from  it,  indeed,  that, 
supposing  the  whole  earth  a  plane,  and  all  piled  compactly 
together  upon  it,  the  solid  mass  would  reach  beyond  the 
sun.  I  was  aware,  however,  that  the  same  things  being 
assumed,  we  could  no  more  hope  for  even  a  short  millen- 
nium ;  but  still  1  was  willing  to  leave  him  to  make  his  own 
reply. — The  following,  found  among  his  papers,  is  a  sam- 
ple of  such  calculations. 

"The  number* of  square  feet  upon  the  surface  of  the 
terraqueous  globe,  is  about  5575  billions. 

"If  at  the  commencement  of  the  millennium  there 
should  be  upon  earth  100  million  people,  and  this  popula- 
tion should  double  once  in  every  fifteen  years  for  425 
years,  the  population  of  the  world  would  then  amount  to 
9771  billions,  677,184  millions." 

An  excellent  and  ingenious  friend,  not  long  after,  hav- 
ing heard  of  these  calculations,  instituted  similar  ones  of 


TO    THE    LONG    MILLENNIUM.  253 

his  own,  and  published  the  results  in  the  Christian  Spec- 
tator. Curiosity  on  this  subject,  will  be  not  a  little  grat- 
ified by  a  perusal  of  that  paper  ;  though  it  is  much  to  be 
regretted,  that  it  was  not  accompanied  by  the  proper  an- 
tidote to  its  staggering  influence  on  our  faith  in  any  mil- 
lennium at  all,  and  consequently  in  revelation  itself. 
Though  my  brother's  volume  was  not  mentioned  in  that 
communication,  yet  it  probably  had  an  effect  in  prevent- 
ing the  sale  of  the  work.  This  I  very  much  regretted  ; 
the  more  so,  in  view  of  my  own  connexion  with  the  cir- 
cumstances. Doubtless  these  Lectures  contain  defects; 
but  even  if  they  were  much  greater  than  they  are,  I 
should  still  think  the  book  a  very  profitable  one  to  be  read 
for  its  highly  practical  effect  on  the  heart  and  life.  The 
spirit  which  pervades  it,  is  one  of  love,  hope,  and  zeal  in 
the  cause  of  human  salvation.  Whether  we  can  tell, 
with  so  much  certainty  as  my  brother  supposes,  the  com- 
mencement and  duration  of  that  blessed  period  predicted 
in  the  divine  word,  is  a  question  of  comparatively  minor 
importance.  Probably  he  was  wrong  here  ;  and  equally 
wrong  in  attempting  to  give  so  minute  a  picture  of  the 
glorious  scene.  That  scene  will  doubtless  be  different, 
in  many  very  important  respects,  from  what  either  he,  or 
Duight,  or  Edwards,  or  Be]  a  my  has  supposed.  God  will 
doubtless  fulfil  all  his  promises,  and  that  perhaps  even 
more  gloriously  than  they  have  imagined,  without  distress- 
ing the  world  with  a  surplus  of  inhabitants,  and  without 
changing  the  order  of  human  society.  Such  were  my 
views  as  to  the  error  of  minuteness,  while  reading  the 
work  ;  and  still,  for  its  moral  effect,  it  is  one  of  the  best 
books  I  ever  read.  The  like  opinion  of  its  effect,  was 
expressed  by  many  around  me,  at  the  time ;  and  I  could 
not  but  deeply  regret  that  its  popularity  and  usefulness 
were  thus  checked,  instead  of  its  faults  being  pruned 
and  the  way  prepared  for  the  greater  usefulness  of  an  im- 
proved edition. 

Since  that  period,  there  has  been  much  less  of  minute 
speculation  respecting  the  millennium,  than  for  a  number 
of  years  before.  And  it  is  well  that  there  has  been  less  ; 
so  prone  are  we  to  be  wise  beyond  what  is  written.  But 
it  is  now  needful  for  us  to  guard  against  relapsing  into  the 
opposite  extreme,  viz.  a  degree  of  scepticism  on  what  is 
written  by  God  for  our  learning,  and  encouragement,  and 
22 


254  PUBLICATIONS. 

guidance  to  practical  effort.  Surely,  there  is  not  on  the 
sacred  pages  a  more  animating  theme  than  that  which 
fired  the  ancient  prophets  in  view  of  Christ's  universal 
reign.  It  will  be  folly  and  sin,  to  close  our  eyes  to  the 
cheering  light  God  has  given,  because  some  now,  as  in 
all  previous  ages,  have  speculated  erroneously  on  the  sub- 
ject. The  grand  error  has  been,  in  assuming  data  which 
God  has  not  given,  and  I  may  here  remark,  that  it  is 
a  demonstration  that  the  prophecies  are  from  him,  that 
they  have  dealt  so  little  in  the  minutiae  in  which  unin- 
spired men  aie  so  fond  of  indulging.  Pictures  have  been 
drawn  of  the  millennium,  by  commentators  and  theorists, 
which  mathematical  demonstration  proves  to  be  false 
somewhere.  The  world  cannot  be  the  theatre  of  such  a 
scene,  for  a  single  thousand  of  years.  But  this  furnishes 
not  even  the  presumption,  that  the  real  scene  which  God 
has  depicted,  may  not  last  to  an  indefinite  extent.  We 
may  just  as  well  hope  for  a  long  as  a  short  millennium. 
It  becomes  us,  then,  to  be  cheered  with  glorious  hope 
of  the  brighter  day  foretold,  and  to  labor  and  pray  for 
the  event  with  all  faith  and  zeal.  Had  not  the  subject  of 
this  memoir,  had  faith  here,  and  strong  faith  too,  he  had 
never  begun  to  be  the  man  we  saw  him.  The  millennium 
filled  and  fired  his  whoie  soul,  and  he  gloried  in  the 
thought  that  every  effort  he  made  might  be  rendered  con- 
ducive to  this  triumphant  issue. 

This  year,  1819,  he  published  his  "Outline  of  a  Course 
of  Astronomical  Lectures,  with  an  Appendix,  containing 
an  explanation  of  the  most  important  terms  relating  to  As- 
tronomy." This  work  of  sixty-seven  pages,  is,  as  its  title 
imports,  only  an  outline,  though  a  pretty  full  one.  It  was 
designed  especially  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  should 
attend  the  lectures  ;  but  is  still  by  itself  an  intelligible, 
interesting,  and  instructive  work,  for  such  as  have  already 
some  acquaintance  with  astronomy. 

Bitfield,  July  19.  1821. 
My  dear  Brother  R. — I  will  forward  you  a  copy  of 
my  Union  Catechism  as  soon  as  I  have  received  one, 
taping  it  will  meet  your  approbation.  Is  it  not  important 
to  study  the  bible  in  a  manner  that  is  best  suited  to  show 
the  connection  and  meaning  ?  Has  not  infinite  evil  re- 
sulted from  the  study  of  detached  portions  of  scripture 
without  attending  to  the  connection  1 


UNION    CATECHISM.  255 

Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  devote  a  few  days  to  the 
examination  of  my  catechism,  and  afford  me  all  the  aid 
in  your  power  in  rendering  the  second  edition  as  good  as 
possible. 

We  have  some  encouraging  appearances  in  the  sem- 
inary. 

By  "  encouraging  appearances,"  he  doubtless  means 
appearances  of  a  revival  of  religion.  Such  revivals,  to 
a  greater  or  less  extent,  were  frequently  enjoyed  in  his 
school  ;  perhaps  nearly  every  season. 

The  nature  and  objects  of  the  Catechism,  will  be 
shown  in  part  by  its  title,  and  a  few  sentences  from  its 
preface.  The  title  is  as  follows  : — "  A  Union  Catechism, 
founded  upon  Scripture  History  ;  consisting  partly  of  Bi- 
ble Questions,  and  partly  of  Questions  with  Answers ; 
interspersed  with  Instructions,  Doctrinal,  Practical,  and 
Explanatory,  principally  in  the  form  of  Notes;  designed 
for  the  use  of  Individuals,  Families,  and  Schools,  espe- 
cially Sabbath  Schools." 

"  In  the  year  1807,  the  author  published  a  '  Plan  and 
Specimens  of  a  Reference  Catechism.'  To  complete  and 
publish  that  work,  he  received  all  the  encouragement  that 
he  could  reasonably  desire.  This  he  intended  to  have 
done  several  years  ago  ;  but  want  of  health  and  other  un- 
expected interruptions  rendered  it  impracticable.  The 
Union  Catechism  retains  the  same  plan  ;  and  the  execu- 
tion is  the  same,  with  such  improvements  as  the  author 
has  been  enabled  to  make.  The  name  is  changed,  partly 
on  account  of  its  being  a  union  of  different  catechetical 
methods;  and  partly  on  account  of  its  combining  histor- 
ical, doctrinal,  and  practical  instructions. 

"  According  to  the  first  plan  of  this  Catechism,  it  was 
to  consist  wholly  of  bible  questions,  with  references  to 
scripture  for  answers.  But  after  much  deliberation  and 
counsel,  it  was  thought  preferable,  that  some  of  the  an- 
swers should  be  inserted.  In  this  way,  the  historical 
connexion  can  be  preserved  without  multiplying  the  ques- 
tions to  an  inconvenient  number,  or  extending  them  to  a 
tedious  degree  of  minuteness.  The  substance  of  con- 
siderable portions  of  scripture,  therefore,  is  often  given  in 
few  words." 


256  BIBLICAL    OUTLINE. 

Notwithstanding  the  high  approbation  of  this  work  by 
many,  it  was  found  to  possess  some  faults,  and  did  not 
meet  a  very  extensive  sale.  Accordingly  my  brother,  in- 
stead of  preparing  a  second  edition,  betook  himself,  with 
zeal  and  patience,  to  the  task  of  remodeling  and  improv- 
ing the  work.  The  result  was  the  work  which  was  partly 
printed  at  the  time  of  his  decease,  and  which  has  since 
appeared,  under  the  title  of  "  Biblical  Outline,"  and  of 
which  some  further  account  will  be  given  in  its  place. 

By  field,  Oct,  2G,  1821. 

My  dear  Brother  W. — An  unusual  pressure  of  du- 
ties, for  several  days,  has  prevented  my  replying  to  your 
very  interesting  letter.  And  now  I  have  merely  time  to 
write  a  very  few  words. 

1  expect  to  remove  to  Saugus  (lately  part  of  Lynn)  in  a 
few  days.  My  reasons  for  this  measure,  I  have  not  time 
to  state, 


CHAPTER   XIV 


FROM    HIS     REMOVAL     TO    SAUGUS     TO      HIS     SECOND     VISIT 
AT    THE    SOUTH.        1821 — 182*2. 

Reasons  for  removal — Discourse  on  female  education — 
Number  of  Pupils. 

In  Nov.  1821,  my  brother  removed  to  Saugus,  a  retired 
village  about  seven  miles  north-east  from  Boston.  To  this 
place  he  was  led,  in  a  great  measure,  "'•for  the  sake  of 
preaching  the  gospel  to  a  small  society  that  would  other- 
wise have  been  destitute."  It  deeply  touched  his  heart 
to  behold  a  waste  place  in  our  Zion.  The  laudable  ef- 
forts of  this  people  to  accommodate  him,  and  thus  to  sup- 
ply themselves  with  sacred  instruction,  are  alluded  to 
in  a  passage  that  I  am  soon  to  quote  from  his  discourse  at 
the  dedication  of  his  Seminary  Hall.  That  his  remarks 
and  his  new  situation  may  be  more  fully  understood,  it 
is  needful  to  state,  that  the  buildings,  which  they  had 
erected  for  the  school,  and  as  a  place  of  public  worship 
for  themselves,  when  the  weather  should  be  too  inclement 
for  my  brother  to  attend  at  the  meeting  house,  was  con- 
tiguous to  the  ancient  and  venerable  parsonage  in  which 
his  family  were  accommodated.  These  buildings  were 
so  connected,  that  he  could  pass  from  the  one  to  the 
other  without  the  exposure  of  going  out  of  doors.  It  was 
understood  that  he  should  preach  for  this  people  on  the 
Sabbath,  when  able,  but  should  be  under  no  obligation 
to  perform  any  other  parochial  labor,  as  his  infirmities 
and  the  cares  of  his  seminary,  would  not  ordinarily  admit 
of  it.  The  relation  was  peculiar ;  and  so,  in  some  re- 
spects, were  the  mingled  people  to  whom  he  was  thus  to 
minister,  as  they  were  composed  of  a  small  group  of  di- 
verse denominations. — At  the  close  of  the  discourse,  he 
thus  addresses  them. 


258  ADDRESS    TO    HIS 

"  MY    RESPECTED    PATRONS, 

"  The  occasion,  which  has  called  us  together,  cannot 
fail  to  be  peculiarly  interesting  to  you.  Behold  this  beau- 
tiful house,  which  the  Lord  has  enabled  you  to  build. 
Next  to  our  divine  Benefactor,  my  first  gratitude,  on  this 
occasion,  is  due  to  you — to  you,  whose  vigorous  and  per- 
severing exertions  have  had  the  principal  instrumentality 
to  bring  me  to  this  place.  This  neat,  this  finished,  this 
very  commodious  edifice  bears  witness  to  your  exertions 
in  a  cause  of  inestimable  importance.  When  I  saw  your 
forwardness  in  this  matter,  a  year  ago,  I  could  scarcely 
believe  you  sincere  in  your  proposal.  You  seemed  to  be 
stating  what  you  desired,  rather  than  what  you  expected. 
But  God  has  enabled  your  hands  to  perform  their  enter- 
prise. May  your  zeal  provoke  very  many  to  noble  deeds 
for  female  improvement. 

"  But  this  house  is  not  designed  for  literary  purposes 
alone.  It  is  also  dedicated  to  the  holy  service  of  Almighty 
God.  And  here  the  members  of  this  Religious  Society 
will  accept  my  ardent  thanks.  Your  willingness  to  re- 
ceive for  your  minister,  a  poor  "earthen  vessel,"  so  very 
feeble  and  imperfect,  excites  feelings,  which  I  cannot  ex- 
press. The  very  comfortable  and  convenient  arrangement 
which  you  have  made  for  attending  public  worship,  during 
the  inclement  season,  demands  my  liveliest  gratitude  to 
Him,  who  knows  how  to  "  temper  the  breeze  to  the  shorn 
lamb."  But  for  this  arrangement,  the  talent  of  preaching 
the  gospel,  with  which  God  has  been  pleased  to  entrust 
me,  which,  though  so  very  imperfectly  exercised,  I  prize 
above  any  other,  this  talent,  the  most  honorable,  important, 
and  delightful,  that  was  ever  committed  to  mortals,  must 
have  been  buried  beneath  the  storms  and  blasts  of  winter. 
To  see  myself  again  restored  to  the  glorious  work  of  the 
stated  ministry,  so  much  beyond  my  hopes  ;  to  see  a  kind 
and  respectful  people,  thai  I  can  call  my  own,  to  see  them 
eagerly  attending  upon  my  ministration  from  Sabbath  to 
Sabbath,  appears  to  me  like  life  from  the  dead.  May  it 
indeed  prove  to  be  life  from  the  dead  to  your  immortal 
souls. 

"  If  I  may  be  an  instrument  to  this  Church  of  strength- 
ening the  things,  which  remain,  that  have  sometimes 
seemed  almost  ready  to  die  ;  if  I  may  be   instrumental  of 


CONGREGATION    AT    SAUGUS.  259 

feeding  this  dear  little  flock  of  Christ,  with  the  bread  of 
life  ;  if,  as  an  under-shepherd  I  may  be  enabled  to  gather 
a  few  of  his  Iambs  into  this  fold,  and  prepare  them  to  be 
presented  spotless  before  the  eternal  throne,  I  desire  no 
greater  joy  on  earth.  Beloved  Brethren  and  Sisters,  if 
on  this  occasion,  you  dare  to  rejoice,  let  me  entreat  you 
to  rejoice  with  trembling.  Do  not  expect  too  much  from 
one,  who  feels  himself  to  be  less  than  nothing  ;  especially 
when  he  can  devote  so  small  a  portion  of  his  time  to  you. 
Trust  in  the  Lord,  and  in  him  alone.  And  again,  let  me 
repeat  the  request,  which  I  made  to  you,  when  I  first  ad- 
dressed you  as  your  minister,  "  Brethren,  pray  for  me" 
— Brethren  and  Sisters,  pray  for  me,  that  I  may  be  stronor 
in  faith  ;  that  my  faith  fail  not ;  that  I  may  be  strength- 
ened with  might  from  on  high  ;  that  you  and  I  may  live  in 
love,  and  walk  in  love,  and  be  to  each  other,  a  joy  and  a 
crown  of  rejoicing  in  the  day  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 

"  My  Brethren  and  Friends  of  the  Methodist  and  Baptist 
connections,  will  here  accept  my  most  cordial  thanks.  In 
compliance  with  your  wishes,  officially  signified  to  me,  I 
have  taken  up  my  residence  among  you,  and  hope  here  to 
establish  my  Seminary.  Nobly  despising  all  narrow- 
minded  jealousy,  you  have  most  kindly  and  respectfully 
pledged  yourselves  to  "  render  every  facility  in  your  power 
for  the  establishment  and  prosperity  of  my  Seminary,  and 
for  my  own  happiness  and  welfare."  Nothing  could  be 
more  grateful  to  my  feelings,  than  such  a  communication 
from  persons  of  a  different  religious  denomination.  I 
consider  it  a  noble  instance  of  that  liberality  of  Christian 
feeling,  which  is  so  happily  characteristic  of  the  present 
age.  Such  liberality,  I  hope  ever  to  cherish,  and  to  re- 
ciprocate. God  forbid,  that  I  should  ever  attempt  to  sow 
discord  among  the  brethren  of  the  cross,  the  disciples  of 
the  Lamb.  God  forbid  that  I  should  ever  attempt  to  alien- 
ate your  hearts  from  your  present  connections,  to  interrupt 
your  communion,  or  disturb  your  peace  among  yourselves". 
Though  I  have  my  religious  opinions,  which  I  have  never 
attempted  to  disguise,  yet,  my  Brethren,  I  do  feel  assured, 
that  the  opinions,  in  which  we  agree,  are  incomparably 
more  important  than  than  those  in  which  we  differ.  I 
consider  Baptists,  Methodists,  Congregational  is  ts,  and 
many  other  denominations,  as  engaged  in  the  same  great 
cause — as   fellow-laborers,  though  generally   in   different 


260  DISCOURSE    ON    FEMALE    EDUCATION. 

fields,  of  the  same  great  Husbandman.  While  they  ap- 
pear to  be  abiding  in  Christ,  and  he  in  them,  I  can  most 
cordially  rejoice  to  see  thern  bringing  forth  much  fruit. 
Still  more  shall  I  rejoice,  if  I  can  do  any  thing  to  confirm 
them  in  the  faith  of  the  gospel,  and  make  them  more 
abundant  in  their  labors  of  love.  Most  cordially  can  I  ex- 
tend the  hand  of  fellowship  to  all  who  appear  to  love  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Most  sincerely  can  I  bid  God-speed 
to  all,  who  are  engaged  to  advance  the  Redeemer's  king- 
dom, and  spread  the  triumphs  of  the  cross  throughout  the 
world.     Even  so,  come,  Lord  Jesus." 

This  extended  passage  very  justly  exhibits  the  mingled 
independence  of  opinion,  and  true  Catholicism  of  heart,  for 
which  he  was  ever  equally  distinguished.  It  is  not,  how- 
ever, chiefly  for  this  purpose,  that  the  extract  is  given  ; 
but  to  show  the  new  relations  in  which  he  was  now 
placed. 

A  word  more  on  this  discourse  before  we  leave  it,  It 
was  not  mainly  as  a  dedicatory  performance  that  it  was 
prepared,  as  will  be  seen  from  its  title  page,  which  is  here 
given.  "  Female  Education — a  discourse  delivered  at 
the  dedication  of  the  Seminary  Hall  in  Saugus,  January 
15,  182*2.  To  which  is  added,  The  Little  Reckoner, 
consisting  principally  of  arithmetical  questions  for  infant 
minds."  This  little  work,  consisting  of  forty  pages,  I 
must  regard  as  one  of  his  happiest  efforts  on  the  impor- 
tance and  improvement  of  female  education.  It  was  wide- 
ly circulated,  and  with  good  effect;  and  were  there  room, 
I  should  here  make  extensive  extracts  from  its  pages. 

TO    MISS    Z.    P.    GRANT. 

Saugus,  MayS,  1822. 

My  situation  here  is,  on  the  whole,  more  agreeable 
than  I  anticipated,  though  I  am  much  pressed,  and  some- 
times distressed,  with  abundant  cares.  I  have  one  hun- 
dred and  twelve  scholars.  In  consequence  of  the  sickness 
of  my  youngest  child,  Mrs.  E.  has  scarcely  been  able  to 
afford  me  a  moment's  assistance  in  teaching:  and  in  con- 
sequence of  indisposition,  Miss  C.  is  able  to  do  scarcely 
any  thing.  The  obvious  inference  is,  that  I  need  more 
assistance,  and  the  best  assistance  that  can  possibly  be 


REFORM    IN    EDUCATION.  261 

procured.  This  inference  is  most  powerfully  confirmed 
by  some  other  considerations.  My  pupils  are  not  only 
more  numerous,  but  much  younger  and  less  pious  than 
usual.  I  feel  that  there  is  danger  that  my  Seminary  will 
sink  by  its  own  weight,  or  rather  its  numbers,  and  that  I 
shall  be  crushed  beneath  the  ruin.  Never  before  did  I  so 
deeply  feel  what  it  is  to  "  rejoice  with  trembling."  There 
is  the  utmost  danger  that  my  health  will  fail,  and  my  dear 
youthful  flock  be  scattered.  I  often  turn  my  thoughts  to 
one,  for  whose  former  assistance  I  desire  to  bless  God — 
one,  who  has  done  more  than  any  other  young  lady,  to 
raise  my  Seminary — one,  whom  my  pupils  are  prepared  to 
receive  with  respect,  with  affection,  with  the  utmost  confi- 
dence. We  wish  for  your  assistance  both  Summer  and 
Winter.  We  had  almost  forty  scholars  in  the  Preparatory 
School.  We  think  it  duty  to  invite  you  to  come  as  soon 
as  your  pngngempnts  mny  admit.  T  have  other  reasons 
for  desiring  your  assistance  in  teaching  my  pupils,  and  in 
attempting  to  instruct  the  public.  These,  I  believe,  I 
mentioned  to  you  at  Byfield.  They  now  appear  more  co- 
gent than  ever.  I  am  more  and  more  impressed  and  dis- 
tressed with  a  view  of  the  extremely  injudicious,  defective, 
superficial,  and  atheistic  methods  of  teaching  in  common 
use.  I  use  the  word  atheistic  in  a  negative  sense.  It  is 
my  decided  opinion,  that  you  and  I  can  do  much  more  to- 
ward effecting  a  reformation,  by  united  than  by  separate 
exertions.  I  hope  your  friends,  (I  need  not  say  yon,)  will 
view  the  subject  on  the  great  scale.  The  united  voice  of 
earth  and  heaven — of  present  and  future  generations,  seems 
to  call  you  hither.  1  hope  no  lion  will  be  in  the  way  of 
your  coming. 

Perhaps  it  is  needless  to  say,  that  I  am  most  ardently 
desirous  to  make  my  Seminary  very  much  better  than  it 
has  been,  and  better  thence  again,  and  better  still. 

In  the  above  extracts,  perhaps  Miss  G.  will  hardly  par- 
don me  for  retaining  so  much  respecting  herself;  but  I 
preferred  to  retain,  in  his  own  language,  a  portion  of  my 
brother's  views  of  her  assistance  in  his  school,  where  she 
had  been  before,  both  as  a  pupil  and  a  teacher.  She  final- 
ly complied  with  the  above  request,  and  labored  in  his 
Seminary  for  a  considerable  period  previous  to  her  again 
establishing  a  separate  school  of  her  own. 


262  NUMBER    OF    PUPILS. 

Leicester,  Nov.  6,  1822. 

My  dear  Brother  W. — I  am  on  my  way  with  Mrs. 
E.  to  visit  Norfolk.  My  health  is  better  than  I  could 
reasonably  expect,  after  so  much  toil,  and  care,  and  anx- 
iety, as  I  have  had  for  several  weeks.  I  have  reason  to 
say  with  peculiar  gratitude,  "  Hitherto,  the  Lord  has 
helped  me." 

I  find  a  printed  catalogue  of  the  scholars  of  his  semi- 
inary  from  the  beginning  up  to  the  present  year.  It  may 
not  be  improper  here  just  to  give  the  numbers  in  each 
year. 

1818—45        1821—50 
1819—85        18^2—122 
1820—69 

The  pupils  in  the  "preparatory  school,  were  probably  not 
included  in  the  catalogue.  On  the  list  of  the  first  year,  I 
find  the  names  of  nine  young  gentlemen,  but  none  in  suc- 
ceeding years.  The  mingling  of  the  sexes  in  such  a  sem- 
inary, will  probably  be  found  inexpedient  in  most,  if  not  in 
all  cases.  Experience  is  the  only  criterion  for  the  deci- 
sion of  such  questions. 

The  whole  number  of  pupils  which  my  brother  had  un- 
der his  care  in  the  course  of  his  life,  amounted  to  about 
one  thousand,  as  before  intimated.  He  employed  not 
only  assistants,  who  devoted  their  whole  time  to  teaching, 
but  also  assistant  pupils;  but  to  what  extent,  I  am  not 
able  to  state. 

Saugtis,  June  25,  1823. 

My  dear  brother  W., — I  am  about  purchasing  a 
number  of  articles  of  philosophical  apparatus.  My  schol- 
ars are  less  numerous  this  year  than  last. 


CHAPTER     XV. 


HIS    SECOND    VISIT    AT    THE    SOUTH.       1823 1824. 

Arrival  in  Charleston—Health  and  feelings — Excur- 
sion to  Dorchester — Recitation  Lectures — Retrospect — 
Duties  of  a  minister's  icife — Facts  and  Remarks  by 
Professor  Peck — Catholicism — Particularly  towards 
the  Baptists — Early  cause  of  this — Return  to  New- 
York — Sickness    there — Invitation    to    Wethersfield — 

Return  to  Saugus. 

0 

In  the  autumn  of  1823,  it  again  became  needful  for  him 
to  seek  a  milder  climate. 

Charleston,  Nov.  27,  1823. 

My  dearest  Companion, — The  good  hand  of  our 
God  upon  us,  has  brought  us  safe  to  this  place  in  ten 
days.     We  arrived  yesterday. 

On  my  arrival  here,  I  found  myself  much  more  lame 
than  when  I  left  Boston  :  and  with  considerable  difficulty 
walked  to  Dr.  Palmer's,  where  1  was  received  with  all  the 
cordiality  I  had  anticipated. 

Last  evening  I  took  lodging  at  Mrs.  F.'s,  in  company 
with  our  dear  Boston  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  F.  and  Mr.  T. 
My  residence  here  promisee  to  be  as  happy  as  can  well  be 
conceived,  at  so  great  a  distance  from  my  dearest  friends. 
Were  it  consistent  and  convenient  for  you  to  make  one  of 
this  intelligent,  pious  family,  I  am  sure  you  would  find 
your  situation  delightful.  But  our  dear,  precious  babes 
require  your  constant  care.  Here  are  about  a  dozen 
boarders^  almost  every  one  of  them  hopefully  pious.  With 
these,  I  hope  to  enjoy  much  sweet  counsel  and  edifying 
conversation;  particularly  with  Mr.  Frey,  the  converted 
Jew,  and  Mr.  Brown,  the  Mariners'  preacher.     Mr.  Brown 


264  TO    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

appears  to  be  a  most  excellent  man  ;  and  has  very  great 
and  increasing  encouragement  in  his  arduous  and  impor- 
tant-labors. 

Let  us  always  remember  the  hour  and  the  minute  of 
our  appointed  devotions. 

Charleston,  Dec.  21,  1823. 

My  beloved  daughter, — Separated  by  hundreds  ok 
leagues  from  my  dearest  earthly  friends  ;  pressed  down  by 
a  complication  of  known  and  unknown  diseases;  day 
after  day,  almost  entirely  confined  to  my  chamber ;  my 
solitude  scarcely  interrupted  by  night  or  by  day,  I  think 
and  think  again  of  those  precious  ones,  whom  I  must 
ever  regard  as  parts  of  myself.  How  often  does  my  N. 
rise  to  my  view,  with  all  the  solicitude  of  dutiful  tender- 
ness to  soften  my  sorrows,  and  mitigate  my  trials. 
Could  I  see  you — could  I  seem  to  behold  you  equally 
solicitous  for  your  own  immortal  welfare — O  could  my 
fancy  behold  your  countenance  irradiated  with  the  smiles 
of  heavenly  love,  faith,  nope,  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy 
Ghost,  it  would  be  comfort  indeed.  Could  I  view  this 
as  a  reality,  it  would  gently  slope  my  passage  to  the  grave; 
it  would  soften  the  pillow  of  death;  would  mitigate  or 
neutralize  the  last  pang  of  dissolving  nature.  O  my 
daughter,  have  pity  upon  me,  have  compassion  upon 
yourself.  Do  you  not  sometimes  fear,  that  we  shall  never 
meet  again  on  earth?  Do  you  not  sometimes  fear,  that 
we  shall  never  enjoy  each  other's  society  another  hour, 
another  moment,  in  this  life,  or  that  which  is  to  come? 
Can  you  endure  the  thought?  Have  you  no  desire  to  re- 
new your  acquaintance  with  that  dear  saint  in  heaven, 
whose  love  to  you  was  even  stronger  than  a  father's? — 
whose  lips  were  employed  so  often  in  impressing  the  ten- 
derest  kisses  on  your  cheek,  and  in  teaching  you  to  ar- 
ticulate your  name  ?  Can  you  endure  the  thought  of  an 
eternal  separation  from  her,  who  so  solemnly  united  in 
devoting  you  to  God  in  baptism,  and  with  her  dying 
breath,  commended  you  to  the  Savior?  O,  can  you  think 
of  forever  being  separated  from  that  Savior,  with  whom  she 
so  delighted  to  commune  on  earth — with  whom,  I  trust, 
she  will  more  and  more  delight  to  dwell  to  all  eternity? 
Can  you  think  of  forever  blaspheming  that  glorious  Im- 
manuel,   whom    she   so   delighted  to   honor,    adore    and 


INFIRMITIES.  2G5 

praise?  Tell  me,  my  N.  what  think  you  of  Christ?  Is 
he  often  the  subject  of  your  meditations  ?  Do  you  think 
upon  him  in  the  night  watches?  Does  he  ever  appear  to 
you  precious?  Do  you  ever  feel  a  desire  to  taste  his 
precious  love?  Do  you  ever  fed  constrained  to  cry  to 
him,  "  Lord,  save  me,  I  perish  ?"  Do  you  ever  dare  to 
say,  "Lord,  I  believe,  help  thou  my  unbelief  1"  Or  do 
you  turn  and  hide  as  it  were  your  face  from  him,  as  hav- 
ing no  form,  nor  comeliness,  nor  beauty,  that  you  should 
desire  him  ?  And  can  you  thus  disregard  Him,  whom 
all  the  heavenly  hosts  admire  and  adore  with  the  pro- 
foundest  reverence  and  deepest  prostration  ?  A  thousand 
things  I  could  add;  but  I  will  rather  say  again,  my  dear, 
dear  child,  have  pity  upon  yourself,  have  compassion 
upon  me  ;  have  compassion  upon  your  poor,  feeble  father, 
"  tott'ring  on  the  brink  of  that  vast  ocean  he  must  sail  so 
soon." 

Dec.  2o. — My  prospect  of  health  and  usefulness  in  this 
world,  is  dark  and  comfortless.  O  my  children,  my  dear 
children,  what  will  become  of  my  sweet  babes  without  a 
father  ! — and  their  mother  without  a  husband  !  I  hope, 
however,  that  I  am  enabled,  habitually  to  commit  my  be- 
loved family  to  Him,  who  has  said,  leave  thy  fatherless 
children,  I  will  preserve  them  alive  ;  and  let  thy  widows 
trust  in  me. 

Your  very  affectionate  father,  J.  E. 

Charleston,  Dec.  27,  1823. 
My  very  dear  Brother  R. — I  still  find  myself  form- 
ing plans  and  projects,  though  my  feeling  is  that  I  shall 
never  execute  them.  I  have  been  afflicted  with  a  mental 
imbecility,  and  intellectual  prostration,  for  which  I  could 
not  account.  It  is  possible  it  may  have  been  owing  to  a 
supposed  fistula  ;  for  since  it  has  gathered  and  discharged 
pretty  copiously,  I  have  felt  a  little  more  energy.  I  have 
great  comfort  in  the  scriptures,  for  which  I  desire  to  be 
most  ardently  thankful.  They  do  appear  to  me  more  and 
more  delightful.  In  former  years  my  mind  was  so  pros- 
trate that  I  could  scarcely  read  a  chapter. — I  hope  I  have 
been  made  willing  to  die,  although  I  do  not  constantly 
feel  that  submission  that  I  desire.  I  sometimes  feel  a 
certain  kind  of  self-contempt  which  I  fear  is  not  exactly 
like  the  humility  that  I  ought  to  feel. 
23 


206  CLOUDED    PROSPECTS. 

I  think  that  I  shall  attempt  to  keep  school  next  sum- 
mer, if  I  can  have  Miss  G.'s  assistance. 

Yours  most  affectionately,  J.  E. 

Charleston,  Dec.  28,  1823.— Sue. 

My  dearest  Companion, — I  have  preached  a  very 
few  times  for  our  good  friend  Dr.  Palmer  and  others,  but 
with  so  little  life  and  energy,  that  I  believe  there  is  no 
danger  of  its  proving  injurious. 

Last  evening,  I  attended  a  very  interesting  meeting  in 
my  chamber.  It  was  a  meeting  of  parents  to  pray  for 
their  children.  They  attended  by  particular  invitation 
from  me.  Our  companions  we  could  not  forget  on  such 
an  occasion. 

Charleston,  Jan,  I,  1824. 
New  year  "  returns  ;  hut  not  to  mo, 
Returns"  the  new  the  happy  year. 

Jan.  5. — With  a  heavy  heart,  I  have  entered  upon  the 
present  year.  It  is  true,  the  climate  is  delightful.  Every 
day  of  this  year  has  been  remarkably  pleasant ;  and  this 
day  like  its  predecessors,  is  now  smiling  upon  me  in  all 
the  lustre  of  May  and  the  mildness  of  June.  And  what 
is  still  more  endearing,  I  am  favored,  from  day  to  day, 
with  the  smiles  of  my  dear  friends  in  this  hospitable  city, 
who  treat  me  with  all  the  kind  attention  and  respectful 
consideration,  that  I  can  reasonably  desire.  But  dreary 
and  dismal  is  the  prospect  before  me.  At  least  as  it  re- 
lates to  the  present  evil  world,  "  Shadows,  clouds  and 
darkness  rest  upon  it."  Most  of  my  plans  for  future  use- 
fulness, seem  blasted  forever.  I  do  not  know  that  I  am  get- 
ting good  or  doing  good — that  I  am  gaining  health  or 
wisdom,  knowledge  skill,  or  understanding.  If  life 
should  be  spared,  I  know  not  when  I  shall  be  able  to 
return — whether  I  shall  be  able  to  keep  school  next  sum- 
mer, nor,  if  I  should,  when  to  appoint  the  time  for  be- 
ginning. But  why  do  I  distress  you  with  the  catalogue  of 
my  calamities?  It  is,  that  I  may  have  your  sympathies, 
your  prayers,  and  your  counsel.  If  you  can  devise  any 
plan,  that  you  think  will  be  practicable,  I  trust  it  will 
be  agreeable  to  me,  as  you  are,  perhaps,  even  more  in- 
terested in  my  life  and  health,  than  I  am.  I  hope  I  am 
willing-  to  be  in  the   hand  of  infinite  Wisdom  and  Good- 


MISCELLANEOUS.  26? 

ness — to  do  and  to  suffer  all  the  divine  will — to  die  when- 
ever the  summons  may  come,  or  to  live  all  the  days  of 
my  appointed  time,  and  suffer  ten  times  more,  than  I  have 
yet  suffered.  The  scriptures  appear  to  me  infinitely  pre- 
cious ;  and  I  hope  I  can  sincerely  adopt  the  words  of  the 
prophet,  "  Although  the  fig-tree  shall  not  blossom,"  etc. 

Jan.  G. — You  know  that  for  several  months  there  has 
been  some  special  religious  excitement  in  this  city.  Con- 
siderable additions  have  recently  been  made  to  the 
churches  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Palmer  and  Mr.  M'Dowell. 
Mr.  M.  was  installed  over  the  third  presbyterian  church 
in  this  city,  soon  after  my  arrival.  His  church  appears  to 
be  in  a  state  peculiarly  interesting.  It  is  but  a  few 
months,  since  it  was  formed.  I  do  hope,  it  is  built  up  of 
lively  stones.  The  members  appear  to  be  exceedingly 
happy  in  each  other,  and  in  their  pastor,  and  he  in  them. 
May  the  Lord  confirm  his  feeble  health,  and  long  pre- 
serve his  precious  life.  But  there  is  no  person  within 
hundreds  of  miles,  whose  society  and  fellowship  I  more 
highly  prize,  than  Mr.  Brown's,  who  lives  in  the  house 
with  me.  He  is  seaman's  preacher ;  and  it  is  delightful 
to  see  him  so  constantly,  so  ardently,  so  faithfully  engag- 
ed in  his  work.  Confident  I  am,  that  his  labor  is  not  in 
vain  in  the  Lord.  His  wife  is  a  very  dear  and  obliging 
sister,  who  seems  ready  to  every  good  work.  They  are 
both  from  New  Hampshire.     He  is  an  Andover  student.* 

Charleston,  Jan  12,  1824. 

Yesterday,  which  was  Sabbath,  I  had  a  more  com- 
fortable day,  than  I  had  enjoyed  since  I  left  you.  In  the 
morning  I  preached  for  good  old  Dr.  Firman,  who  has 
been  a  baptist  minister  more  than  fifty  years.  And  here 
I  will  mention,  that  for  some  time,  I  have  roomed  with 
Mr.  Peck,  baptist  missionary  in  this  city.  He  is  an  An- 
dover student,  having  been  previously  brought  up  and 
educated  in  Providence. 

From  the  tenor  of  this  letter,  you  must  have  perceived, 
that  I  feel  some  degree  of  encouragement  with  regard  to 
my  health.  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  permitted  to  engage  in 
any  enterprise,  that  will  prove  injurious.     My  mind,  how- 

*  Mr.  Brown  afterwards  became  ihe  Secretary  of  the  Seaman's  Friend 
Society,  and  has  lately  been  removed  by  death. 


268  EXCURSION    TO    DORCHESTER. 

ever,  must  have  some  employment,  or  it  will  brood  over 
its  calamities  and  perversely  increase  them,  by  preying 
upon  itself.  I  have,  therefore,  ventured  to  propose  the 
instruction  of  a  few  young  ladies  in  Watts  on  the  Im- 
provement of  the  Mind.  If  I  can  procure  such  a  class, 
it  may  conduce  to  my  corporeal,  intellectual,  and  pecuni- 
ary health.  I  have  just  mentioned  the  plan  to  a  number 
of  the  good  ministers  in  this  city,  as  they  were  holding 
a  meeting  for  prayer  and  mutual  consultation  -for  the  ad- 
vancement of  Zion's  welfare.  The  plan  appeared  to 
meet  with  their  unanimous  and  ardent  approbation. 

The  weather  is  so  mild,  that  I  have  written  this  letter 
with  my  windows  open  and  without  fire. 

Charleston,  Jan.  16,  1824. 

For  several  days,  I  have  been  engaged  in  preparing  an 
introductory  discourse  and  making  other  arrangements  for 
my  Recitation  Lectures. — I  send  you  a  paper  containing 
a  communication  from  our  good  baptist  brother  P.,  which 
you  will  be  interested  to  see.  I  told  him,  my  wife  would 
thank  him  twice  for  it,  as  it  was  calculated  to  favor  her 
sex  and  her  husband.  I  believe  he  is  as  hearty  a  well- 
wisher  to  me  and  to  my  enterprise  as  this  city  contains. 

Jan.  17. — I  am  very  suddenly  called  to  go  about  twen- 
ty-five miles  into  the  country  to  administer  the  Lord's 
supper  to  a  very  small  church  at  Dorchester  They  emi- 
grated from  Dorchester,  Mass.  I  expect  they  will  seem 
almost  like  my  own  people.  This  morning  is  peculiarly 
delightful.  I  hope  the  ride  will  be  beneficial  to  my 
health.  I  am  furnished  with  a  horse  and  chaise,  and 
a  servant  to  ride  behind  on  horseback.  Such  an  atten- 
dant, you  may  well  suppose,  will  not  be  very  gratifying  to 
my  republican  feelings.  If,  however,  I  can  sometimes 
change  seats  with  the  servant,  it  may  possibly  benefit  my 
health. 

Charleston,  Jan.  23,  1824. 

My  journey  to  and  from  Dorchester,  and  my  visit  there, 
were  exceedingly  interesting,  and  I  hope  in  some  measure 
profitable  to  myself  and  others.  I  preached  there  to  about 
forty  whites  and  twice  as  many  blacks,  collected  from  an 
area  of  more  than  one  hundred  square  miles.  I  then  ad- 
ministered the  holy  supper  to  about  eight  whites  and  twice 


RECITATION    LECTURES.  269 

as  many  blacks,  who  had  not  received  it  there  before  for 
nearly  two  years.  The  church,  or  rather  meeting-house, 
stands  in  the  woods,  much  more  retired  than  that  of  Line- 
brook,  and  about  the  same  size.  It  is  v<  ry  near  the  eas- 
tern bank  of  the  Ashley,  twenty-five  miles  from  this  city. 

I  still  feel  encouraged  to  hope,  that  my  health  is  really 
improved,  and  that  I  shall  be  able  to  do  something  next 
summer,  if  I  can  have  the  assistance  of  my  wife  and 
daughter.     I  have  received  a  very  kind,  endearing,  and 

very  comforting  letter  from .     Two  or  three  extracts 

may  be  as  interesting  to  my  other  self,  as  they  were  to  this 
self.  "  All  your  friends  here  take  a  deep  interest  in  your 
welfare,  are  much  gratified  to  hear  from  you,  and  wish  to 
hear  again  by  an  early  mail."  "  Do  not  exert  yourself 
beyond  your  strength."  "  Consent  to  vegetate  for  a 
while  ;  or,  if  you  please,  like  a  mere  log,  float  down  the 
current  of  time.  You  may  yet  be  refitted  and  of  much 
use.  But  should  you  prove  a  wreck,  your  friends  will 
cherish  the  remembrance  of  the  good  you  have  already 
done." 

Sister  R.  Eaton's  health  appears  to  be  much  improved. 
She  has  six  or  seven  scholars.  This  is  here  thought  to  be 
a  good  beginning  for  a  school, 

Charleston,  Jan,  30,  1024. 

You  are  doubtless  desirous  to  know  the  success  of  my 
efforts  for  a  Recitation-Lecture  Class.  On  Monday  eve- 
ning, 1  delivered  my  introductory  lecture  to  a  very  respect- 
able and  very  attentive  audience.  On  Tuesday  morning, 
I  had  the  happiness  to  meet  twenty-five  pupils.  On  Wed- 
nesday morning,  there  were  five  more,  and  on  this  morn- 
ing three  more.  The  whole  number  is  thirty-three. 
They  appear  to  be  of  about  the  same  ages  as  my  pupils 
generally.  I  have  the  honor  to  reckon  among  them  five 
married  ladies.  The  class  appear  much  more  like  my 
northern  pupils,  than  I  had  anticipated.  There  is  much 
of  that  lively  and  earnest  attention,  which  I  have  found  so 
interesting  and  delightful  in  my  own  hall.  You  will  not 
think  it  strange,  then,  if  the  lecture-room  here  should 
seem  more  like  home  than  any  other  place. 

Jem.  31. — How  great  is  the  change  that  has  taken  place 
in  my  health,  feelings,  and  prospects,  in  a  single  month. 
I  have  not,  indeed,  the  strength  I  once  enjoyed.  But  it 
23* 


270 


HIS    STEP-MOTHER. 


is  such  as  to  render  labor  pleasure.  It  is  indeed  but  a 
little  labor  that  1  attempt  to  perform  ;  but  to  spend  two 
hours  with  my  class,  three  or  four  times  a  week,  is  a  task 
truly  delightful. 

To  his  step-mother,  then  residing  at  Woodstock,  but 
since  dead. 

Charleston,  Feb.  7,  1834. 

My  dear  and  honored  Mother, — A  long  time  has 
elapsed,  since  I  had  the  melancholy  pleasure  to  visit  you 
last.  Be  assured  you  have  not  been  forgotten  by  one,  on 
whom  you  have  conferred  so  many  endearing  favors. 
You  have  been  much  in  my  remembrance,  much  in  my 
affection,  and  much  in  my  gratitude.  I  desire  to  bless 
God  for  the  relation,  which  in  his  providence,  he  was 
pleased  to  form  between  us.  It  has  certainly  been  singu- 
larly happy  to  me  :  and  I  believe  it  has  to  all  our  connex- 
ions. I  do  not  recollect  that  I  ever  received  one  instance 
ofunkindness  from  you,  either  in  action,  word  or  look; 
nor  do  I  remember  ever  harboring,  for  a  moment,  one  dis- 
respectful or  unpleasant  feeling  toward  you.  Especially 
do  I  desire  to  bless  God  for  your  abundant,  incessant,  and 
long  continued  kindness  to  the  best  of  fathers.  I  cannot 
help  thinking,  that  it  was  owing,  in  some  measure,  to  your 
instrumentality,  that  he  was  enabled  to  bring  forth  so 
much  good  fruit  in  old  age,  and,  as  I  trust,  to  ripen  so  fast 
for  the  world  of  glory. 

You  may  wish  to  know  something  of  my  history  since  I 
saw  you.  During  the  last  year,  I  scarcely  enjoyed  health 
for  a  single  day.  Without  any  apparent  cause,  and  when 
I  had  been  fondly  hoping,  that  my  health  was  better  than 
for  many  years  before,  my  infirmities  came  gradually  upon 
me  in  the  winter  ;  increased  in  the  summer,  and  in  au- 
tumn brought  me  down  to  the  brink  of  the  grave,  so  that, 
at  times,  I  despaired  of  life.  It  was  thought  advisable 
that  I  should  again  try  the  mild  influence  of  a  southern 
clime.  Since  I  have  been  in  this  city,  I  have  sometimes 
been  cast  down,  but  I  hope,  not  disposed  to  murmur. 
Death  has  repeatedly  appeared  very  near  to  me,  some- 
times terrific  and  sometimes  desirable.  # 

You  may  wish  to  know  some  more  particulars  concern- 
ing   my    children.      N.    has    been    at   Bath    about  eight 


FAMILY    CONNEXIONS.  271 

months,  assisting  Miss  Susan  Eaton  in  teaching.  I  ex- 
pect her  to  assist  me  in  the  Seminary  next  summer.  L. 
and  A.  are  preparing  for  college.  How  unspeakably  it 
would  gladden  my  heart,  if  I  could  indulge  a  rational 
hope,  that  they  would  ever  become  faithful  ministers  of 
Jesus  Christ.  My  three  little  children,  E.  and  E.  and  J. 
are  healthy,  sprightly,  and  sufficiently  interesting  to  me. 
May  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  their  precious  souls.  What 
a  duty,  what  a  privilege  to  pray  for  children — for  grand- 
children. In  your  supplications  for  the  rest  of  your 
grand  children,  I  trust  mine  will  not  be  forgotten. 
Most  sincerely  yours, 

J.  Emerson. 

P.  S. — To  his  brother-in-law,  Rev.  W.  Chapin,  also 
since  dead. 

Mr  dear  Brother, — Long  before  now  I  intended  to 
have  returned  you  at  least  my  thanks,  for  the  numbers  of 
your  useful  little  publication,  you  were  so  kind  as  to  send 
me.  I  hope  the  work  has  done  extensive  good,  and  will 
continue  to  do  good,  more  and  more  extensively,  for  many 
years  to  come.  I  am  still  more  interested  in  your  Mis- 
sionary Gazetteer.  May  the  Lord  succeed  all  your  enter- 
prises and  efforts  to  advance  his  glorious  kingdom  in  your 
own  heart,  in  your  dear  family,  in  your  beloved  flock  and 
congregation,  in  your  vicinity,  in  our  country,  and  through- 
out the  world.  The  cause  in  which  you  are  engaged,  is 
truly  noble,  and  appears  more  and  more  delightful.  Go 
on,  my  brother,  go  on  and  prosper.  Let  us  be  steadfast, 
unmoveable,  always  abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord  ; 
and  we  shall  find  that  our  labor  is  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord. 

Love  to  my  beloved  sister,  and  the  precious  little  ones 
that  God  has  given  you. 

Yours  truly, 

J.  Emerson. 

TO    MISS    N.    INGERSOLL. 

Charleston,  Feb.  3,  1824. 

During  the  ten  weeks  that  have  elapsed,  since  my  arri- 
val in  this  city,  I  have  probably  thought  more  of  you,  and 
of  our  dear  Beverly  friends,  than  for  two  years  before. 
The  only  reason,  that  I  can  assign,  is,  that  I  have  had 


272  RETROSPECTION. 

more  leisure.  I  have  had  feast  upon  feast,  in  "  the  re- 
membrance of  joys"  I  there  experienced,  which  I  have 
found  more  "  pleasant*'  than  "  mournful,  to  the  soul." 
And  I  have  found  it  scarcely  less  pleasing,  perhaps  more 
profitable,  to  consider  the  various  and  complicated  trials, 
through  which  I  was  there  preserved,  and  from  which  I 
was  delivered.  I  hope  I  can  say  in  truth,  "  It  is  good  for 
me  that  I  have  been  afflicted  ;  and  in  faithfulness  he  has 
afflicted  me."  O,  I  love  to  consider,  and  repeat  to  my- 
self, what  my  gracious  Redeemer,  divine  Sanctifier,  watch- 
ful Guardian,  and  almighty  Captain,  has  done  for  my  soul, 
and  for  the  souls  of  those  who  are  dearer  to  me  than  life. 
And  while  the  eye  of  retrospection  is  traversing  the  long 
and  arduous  way,  through  which  the  Lord  has  led  me,  it 
often  pauses  in  one  place  and  another,  to  view  the  Ebene- 
zer,  which  imagination  erects,  with  this  inscription,  Here 
the  Lord  hdpccl  me.  And  then  my  soul  takes  fresh  cour- 
age, and  rests  in  the  delightful  confidence,  that  he,  who 
has  been  with  me  in  six  troubles,  and  delivered  me  in 
seven,  will  never  leave  me. 

I  find  in  this  city,  the  best  religious  society  and  religious 
privileges.  A  few  times,  when  the  weather  has  been  un- 
favorable, I  have  been  unable  to  attend  public  worship  on 
the  Sabbath.  A  few  times  I  have  preached,  sometimes 
with  coldness,  and  sometimes  with  some  degree  of  engag- 
edness  and  satisfaction  to  myself,  and  I  hope  with  edifica- 
tion to  others.  O  when  shall  I  again  preach  in  that 
meeting-house,  where  I  have  preached  more  than  in  all 
others?  When  shall  I  again  occupy  that  dearest  of  pul- 
pits, and  address  that  dearest  of  congregations  ?  When 
shall  I  again  keep  the  sacred  feast  with  that  dearest  of 
churches?  When  shall  I  again  unite  in  public  songs  of 
praise  with  those  dear,  clear  brethren,  whose  long  and  un- 
remitted kindness  to  me  was  wonderful,  passing  that  of 
parents.  But  perhaps  I  have  already  given  my  last  exhor- 
tation, delivered  my  last  message,  sung  my  last  song,  pray- 
ed my  last  prayer,  and  tasted  my  last  joy,  in  that  sacred 
house,  which  has  been  endeared  to  me  so  many  hundred 
times,  by  the  presence  and  communion  of  my  dearest 
christian  friends,  and  (may  I  not  say,)  by  the  presence 
and  communion  of  my  dearest  Savior.  My  beloved  sister, 
I   have  nothing  to  take  back,  nothing  to  recant,  of  all  the 


DOCTRINES    OF    GRACE.  273 

testimonies,  which  1  bore  to  the  truth  and  excellency  of 
the  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God.  These  glorious  and 
pride-staining  doctrines  are  my  light  in  darkness,  my  joy 
in  sorrow,  my  glory  in  tribulation.  These  are  the  doc- 
trines, which,  I  most  ardently  hope  and  pray,  may  be 
preached  and  received  in  that  house,  for  centuries  to 
come,  and  preached  in  houses  erected  upon  the  same  con- 
secrated spot,  till  all  the  elect  of  God  shall  be  gathered  in 
— till  it  is  dissolved  by  the  final  conflagration,  and  preach- 
ing shall  give  place  to  songs  of  eternal  praise.  Then,  I 
trust,  it  will  be  said  of  many  a  glorified  saint,  that  he  was 
born  in  that  house. 

Feb.  9. — Give  my  most  affectionate  regards  to  the  dear 
sisters  with  whom  you  have  prayed  so  often,  and,  as  I 
trust,  with  so  much  satisfaction.  1  hope  those  with  whom 
I  am  acquainted,  have  not  forgotten  to  pray  for  their  old 
friend,  who  often  thinks  of  them  with  the  most  solemn  and 
lively  interest.  If  I  had  health,  and  other  avocations  did 
not  forbid,  I  should  delight  to  spend  day  after  day,  and 
night  after  night,  in  writing  to  every  one  of  them.  I  have 
felt,  that  the  blessings,  which  I  have  received  for  many 
years,  have  been  granted  more  through  the  instrumentality 
of  their  prayers,  than  of  my  own. 

Charleston,  Feb.  11,  1C24. 

My  dearest  Companion, — Brother  P.  appeared  much 
gratified  with  the  kind  expression  in  your  letter.  He 
wishes  me  to  return  his  best  respects.  I  believe  I  never 
became  so  intimate  with  any  other  man  in  so  short  a  time. 

Sister  R.  Eaton  enjoys  very  good  heath.  Her  school 
is  still  small,  though  increasing. 

The  Miss  R — s  are  as  kind  as  ever,  and  so  are  Mrs.  B., 
Mrs.  F.,  etc.  But  no  one  appears  to  take  more  pleasure 
in  showing  me  kindness,  than  Mrs.  J.  I  dine  with  her 
frequently  ;  and  she  tells  me,  there  will  always  be  a  plate 
for  me  at  her  table. 

TO    MISS    E.,    NOW    MRS.    P. 

leston,  S.  C.  Feb.  1G,  1824. 
My  dear  Friend, — I    need    not    inform    you    of   the 
friendship,  which    has   recently  commenced  between  Mr. 
P.  and  myself — a  friendship,  which,  1  trust,  is  founded  on 


274  DUTIES    OF    A 

the  chief-corner-stone  of  salvation,  destined  to  co-exist 
with  immortality,  and  brighten  with  the  stars  of  light.  I 
shall,  therefore,  address  you  with  the  freedom  of  an  inti- 
mate acquaintance,  feelingly  alive  to  your  happiness,  and 
deeply  interesting  for  your  future  welfare.  The  occasion 
is  peculiarly  sacred.  It  is  the  first,  and  undoubtedly  the 
last,  effort  of  my  pen  of  such  a  nature.  God  grant  it  may 
conduce  to  his  glory  and  your  advantage.  Even  if  I 
were  able,  I  should  by  no  means  think  it  desirable,  to 
regale  your  taste  with  the  flowers  of  rhetoric,  or  exhil- 
arate your  fancy  with  the  charms  of  novelty.  All  the  nov- 
elty is  the  undertaking  itself.  My  highest  ambition  is  to 
feed  your  mind  with  the  ripened  fruit  of  christian  love.  I 
would  present  to  your  consideration,  a  few  plain  truths 
and  obvious  reflections,  which  coming  in  this  peculiar 
manner,  may  be  blest  to  comfort  and  quicken  you  on  your 
way  to  glory. 

Your  prospect  in  life,  is  more  interesting  and  momen- 
tous, than  language  can  express.  Your  imagination  often 
faints  and  sinks  in  the  attempt  to  paint  it.  Yet  many  of 
the  probable  scenes  of  your  future  life,  strike  you  as  real- 
ities; and  excite  the  inquiry,  "  Who  is  sufficient  for  these 
things?  What  then  am  I,  that  I  should  think  of  an  un- 
dertaking, so  arduous,  so  difficult,  so  much  above  my 
ability  to  execute  V*  Thus  did  the  youthful  Jeremiah, 
and  thus  the  venerable  Moses  recoil  from  the  work  which 
the  Lord  assigned  them.  They  were  afterward,  however, 
enabled  to  do  it.  Say  not,  then,  "  I  am  a  child."  Out 
of  the  mouth  of  babes,  God  can  ordain  strength,  and 
perfect,  praise.  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled.  Believe 
in  God  ;  believe  in  Christ.  You  know  not  how  great 
things  almighty  grace  can  work  in  you,  and  for  you,  and 
by  you.  Though  you  feel  weak,  your  God  is  strong  ; 
and  if  you  suitably  look  to  him,  you  will  find,  you  can 
do  all  things  through  Christ  that  strengtheneth  you. 
Though  you  may  have  a  painful  sense  of  the  influence  of 
your  intellectual  and  spiritual  attainments,  remember, 
that  in  your  Savior,  are  hid  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom 
and  knowledge.  If  any  man  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask 
of  God,  that  giveth  to  all  men  liberally,  and  upbraideth 
not,  and  it  shall  be  given  him.  Dare,  then,  to  take  a 
view  of  the  prospect  that  is  opening  before  you,  and 
calmly  inquire,  What  are    the  duties  of  my  expected  sta- 


minister's  wife.  275 

tion  ?  and  how  shall  1  best  perform  them?  Could  I  af- 
ford you  the  least  assistance  in  answering  these  questions, 
it  would   be  no  less  gratifying  to  me,  than  to  you. 

For  every  station,  which  a  mortal  is  called  to  fill,  reli- 
gion is  of  the  first  importance.  But  in  no  other  station, 
allotted  to  females,  is  it  so  important,  as  in  that,  to  which 
you  are  looking  forward.  The  first  and  most  important 
question,  then,  for  you  to  ask  yourself,  is,  "Am  I  a  pos- 
sessor of  that  religion,  which  is  pure  and  undefiled  be- 
fore God  and  the  Father  ?"  I  will  presume  to  offer  you 
only  a  few  hints,  to  aid  your  examination  of  this  most 
interesting  and  momentous  question.  You  know  the  com- 
mandments. Do  they  appear  suitable  for  God  to  im- 
pose, and  for  men  to  obey  ?  Do  you  love  them  ?  Do  you 
keep  them  ?  Do  you  earnestly  strive  to  keep  them,  in 
heart,  word,  and  deed  ?  Do  you  strive  to  keep  them  con- 
tinually ?  Is  your  delight  in  the  law  of  the  Lord?  Do 
you  meditate  upon  it  day  and  night  ?  And  is  your  soul 
like  a  tree,  planted  by  the  rivers  of  water,  that  with  un- 
withering  leaf,  is  bringing  forth  its  fruit  in  its  season? 
Often  have  you  read  and  heard  Christ's  sermon  on  the 
mount,  while  your  heart  has  said,  "  These  are  precious 
sayings."  Do  you  keep  them  ?  They  are  sayings  not 
merely  to  be  read  and  admired  ;  they  are  to  be  done.  Do 
you  do  them  ?  Are  you  engaged,  from  day  to  day,  in 
doing  them  ?  Let  me  advise  you,  before  the  rising  and 
setting  of  another  sun,  to  read  this  best  of  sermons  ;  and 
as  you  read,  to  pause  at  the  close  of  every  saying,  and 
inquire  "  Does  this  saying  apply  to  me  ?  and  do  I  per- 
form it?  Let  me  also  advise  you  to  read,  with  the  same 
kind  of  self-application,  the  epistle  to  the  seven  Asiatic 
churches.  Many  other  passages,  you  may  read  in  the 
same  manner,  with  perhaps  equal  advantage.  Attend 
particularly  to  the  religious  exercises  of  scripture  saints. 
Do  your  experiences  correspond  with  those  of  Abraham, 
Jacob,  Job,  Moses,  David,  Asaph,  Paul,  etc.  The  whole 
bible  may  be  read  with  great  advantage,  to  assist  you  in 
ascertaining,  whether  you  are  a  christian  ;  and  it  is  by 
far  the  best  of  books  for  this  purpose. 

Yet  I  would  by  no  means  despise  the  assistance  which 
we  may  derive  from  the  uninspired  writings  of  great  and 
good  men,  upon  this  subject.  Among  the  many  which 
may  be  perused  with  advantage,  I  will  mention  the  follow- 


27G  DUTIES    OP    A 

ing  : — Saint's  Rest,  Pilgrim's  Progress  with  Scott's  notes, 
Flavel's  Touchstone  of  Sincerity,  Edwards  on  Affections, 
Doddridge's  Rise  and  Progress,  Law's  Call,  Scott's  Prac- 
tical Observations,  Mason  on  Self-Knowledge,  and 
Spring's  Essays.  Mason  and  Law,  however,  as  they  con- 
tain scarcely  a  ray  of  gospel  truth,  I  can  recommend  only 
in  connection  with  evangelical  works,  though,  as  far  as 
they  go,  they  are  admirable.  Considered  as  treatises  upon 
those  important  subjects,  they  are  dreadfully  defective. 
Accounts  of  revivals  of  religion,  and  biographical  sketches, 
containing  the  experiences  of  christians,  may  also  claim 
your  attention.  In  connection  with  these  methods,  you 
may  likewise  examine  yourself  by  inquiring,  whether  you 
do  most  devoutly,  and  with  all  your  heart,  enter  into  the 
great  and  glorious  plans  of  the  present  age  for  evangeliz- 
ing the  world  ?  and  whethor  you  do  unreservedly  conse- 
crate your  every  talent  to  co-operate  in  their  execution  1 

It  is  not  only  desirable  that  you  should  be  really  pious  ; 
but  it  appears  peculiarly  necessary  that  you  should  be  emi- 
nently so.  Your  grand  business,  in  your  expected  station, 
will  be  to  help  your  friend — to  help  him  in  the  work  of  his 
high  and  holy  calling.  How  can  you  do  this,  if  you  are 
not  somewhat  distinguished  for  good  works?  In  a  work, 
which  seems  sufficient  "  to  crush  an  angel,"  surely  he  will 
need  an  eminent  christian  for  his  exemplar,  his  counsellor, 
his  encourager,  his  dearest  friend  and  helper.  It  seems 
indispensable,  that  his  people  and  friends  should  believe 
and  feel,  that  she,  whom  the  Lord  gives  him,  on  purpose 
for  a  help,  is  a  help-meet  indeed,  and  not  a  hindrance — 
that  she  is  a  pattern  of  industry  and  good  works,  of  humil- 
ity, meekness,  faith,  patience,  self-denial,  and  every  chris- 
tian grace  and  virtue.  Then  may  we  expect,  that  she 
will  do  him  good  and  not  evil,  all  the  days  of  her  life. 

The  idea  of  literary  eminence,  you  must  probably  relin- 
quish. Otherwise,  there  is  reason  to  fear,  that,  under  the 
pressure  of  your  cares,  your  piety,  or  your  health,  or  both, 
will  languish.  You  must  probably  content,  or  rather  fe- 
licitate, yourself  with  aiming  at  the  nobler  eminence  of 
the  heart.  Eminently  pious  you  may  be,  must  be.  Ev- 
ery thing  else,  that  you  can  possess,  without  this,  is  com- 
paratively unimportant. 

Next  to  piety,  domestic  virtues  appear  most  important. 
There  is,  indeed,  an  intimate  connection  between  the  one 


MINISTER  S    WIFE. 


277 


and  the  other.  We  cannot  conceive  that  the  mistress  of  a 
family  can  be  eminently  pious,  without  a  high  degree  of 
domestic  virtue  ;  though  there  may  be  considerable  de- 
grees of  the  latter,  without  the  former.  But  domestic  vir- 
tue, like  every  other  form  of  virtue,  is  greatly  improved, 
exalted,  and  ennobled,  by  piety. 

The  lessons,  which  you  have  received,  and  are  daily 
receiwng,  upon  guiding  the  house,  are  so  much  better 
than  I  can  give,  that  it  must  be  obviously  improper  for  me 
to  enlarge  upon  this  branch  of  domestic  virtue.  Upon  the 
duties  you  will  owe  more  immediately  to  your  friend,  I 
will  most  respectfully  offer  a  few  thoughts. 

You  will  bear  in  mind,  that  the  part  assigned  you  in 
relation  to  him,  is  subordinate.  But  the  honor  will  not  lie 
so  much  in  the  part,  as  in  acting  it  well.  Even  if  this 
were  not  the  case,  yet  in  such  a  cause,  and  with  such  a 
man,  you  will  consider  it  sufficiently  honorable,  to  act  a 
secondary  part.  [See  Emmons'  sermon  on  1  Tim.  1  :  12, 
vol.  3,  p.  80.] 

In  the  office  of  helping  your  friend,  be  most  watchful 
and  prayerful,  that  you  do  not  hinder  him.  Do  not  hinder 
his  prayers,  nor  his  alms,  nor  any  of  his  labors  of  love. 
Cheerfully  allow  him  to  pursue  his  own  course,  unless  you 
can  convince  him  there  is  a  better.  Never  use  entreaties, 
where  arguments  fail,  unless  you  are  sure  of  being  in  the 
right.  The  solid  respect  and  tender  attachment,  he  bears 
you,  will  always  plead  sufficiently  in  your  favor,  without 
the  addition  of  entreaty. 

Instead  of  hindering,  I  trust  it  will  be  your  business  and 
your  pleasure  to  help  him  to  the  utmost,  in  every  good 
word  and  work. 

You  may  help  him  to  preserve  and  improve  his  health. 
Without  this  invaluable  blessing,  the  work  of  his  high 
calling  must  cease.  Knowing  his  constitution  and  infirm- 
ities, you  may  often  anticipate  his  wants,  and  prevent  his 
maladies  ;  and  in  case  of  severe  indisposition,  the  watch- 
ful kindness  you  may  manifest,  and  the  cheering  cordials 
you  may  minister  to  his  mind,  may  be  more  beneficial  to 
his  body,  than  all  the  drugs  of  the  apothecary. 

You  may  help  him  in  his  studies.  Though  he  is  al- 
ready so  well  instructed  in  the  things  of  the  kingdom,  yet 
he  must  study,  in  order  to  bring  forth  continually  from  his 
replenished  treasury,  things  new  and  old.  His  usefulness 
24 


278  DUTIES    OF    A 

must  depend,  in  a  great  measure,  upon  his  successful 
prosecution  of  his  studies.  As  far  as  possible,  relieve  his 
mind  of  every  domestic  care.  1  have  no  doubt  it  was  this, 
which  conduced,  in  a  great  measure,  to  make  the  immor- 
tal Edwards  what  he  was  and  is — the  glory  of  New-Eng- 
land— the  joy  and  boast  of  succeeding  generations.  Surely 
a  man  may  be  a  very  kind  and  tender  husband,  at  least 
in  ordinary  cases,  without  thinking  of  the  meat  that  he  is 
to  eat,  beibre  he  sees  it  upon  the  table.  In  other  ways, 
also,  you  may  aid  his  studies.  With  the  knowledge  and 
intellectual  improvement,  which,  we  hope,  you  will  pos- 
sess, you  may  greatly  aid  his  inquiries  and  investigations, 
by  your  remarks  and  questions.  After  two  or  three  hours 
of  intense  application  in  solitude,  his  mind  will  be  refresh- 
ed, and  his  views  extended  by  a  little  conversation  with 
his  dearest  friend,  upon  the  same  subject ;  while  affection 
will  unite  with  the  love  of  knowledge,  to  render  his  obser- 
vations as  gratifying  to  you,  as  they  are  instructive.  If 
you  are  able  to  comprehend  his  views,  and  understand  his 
plans  of  doing  good,  he  will  delight  to  talk  them  over  with 
you,  at  every  opportunity.  In  this  way,  his  schemes  may 
be  improved  and  matured  ;  and  many  an  hour  may  be  re- 
deemed to  him  and  to  you.  You  may  aid  his  studies  by 
frequently  reading  to  him  a  chapter  in  the  bible,  a  few 
lines  of  the  Night  Thoughts,  a  column  of  the  Recorder, 
or  a  passage  of  some  favorite  work ;  especially,  if  you  have 
attained  that  excellence  in  the  art  of  reading,  which  is  so 
desirable  in  the  wife  of  a  minister.  I  would  much  rather 
my  wife  should  read  well,  than  be  mistress  of  all  the  meta- 
physics of  Brown,  or  all  the  languages  of  Babel.  You 
may  likewise  aid  him  in  his  studies  by  preventing  intrud- 
ers. Many  call  upon  ministers,  without  any  important 
business.  In  such  cases,  you  may  tell  them  that  Mr.  P. 
is  much  engaged,  and  that,  unless  their  business  is  very 
urgent,  it  would  be  a  great  favor  to  excuse  him  from  see- 
ing them.  In  this  way,  some  may  be  prevented  from  see- 
ing him,  and  others  may  be  induced  to  make  their  unprof- 
itable visits  much  shorter.  You  may  possibly  render  im- 
portant service  to  his  studies,  as  well  as  to  his  health,  by 
giving  him  a  gentle  hint,  when  he  is  in  danger  of  studying 
too  much.  When  deeply  engaged  in  some  favorite  pur- 
suit, he  may  sometimes  be  in  danger  of  continuing  it, 
when  he  ought  to  be  conversing,  exercising,  or  sleeping 


MINISTER  S    WIFE. 


279 


Probably  there  is  no  other  source  from  which  his  health 
and  life  will  be  so  much  exposed.  May  the  Lord  have 
mercy  on  him,  and  on  you,  and  all  your  friends,  and  ena- 
ble you  to  lengthen  out  his  precious  life  to  a  good  old  age. 

You  may  help  him  in  the  instruction  of  his  people, 
from  house  to  house.  You  may  encourage  him  in  the 
performance  of  this  important  duty.  You  may  often  sug- 
gest, that  it  may  be  useful  to  visit  such  a  family,  or  such 
an  individual.  You  may  frequently  visit  with  him,  and 
lend  your  aid  in  rendering  the  conversation  more  spiritual, 
more  lively,  and  more  profitable  ;  especially  when  he  may 
be  so  feeble  as  to  be  hardly  able  to  speak.  How  exceed- 
ingly thankful  must  you  then  feel,  if  favored  with  the  tal- 
ent of  speaking  well.  Then  must  you  feel  that  your 
tongue  is  indeed  the  glory  of  your  frame. 

You  may  help  him  to  discover  and  correct  his  faults. 
Faults  he  certainly  has,  though,  I  trust,  they  are  compar- 
atively few  and  small.  And  faults  he  certainly  will  have ; 
though,  I  trust,  they  will  be  fewer  and  fewer,  and  less  and 
less,  from  year  to  year.  "  Flaws  in  the  best;  the  many, 
flaw  all  o'er."  I  am  far  from  suspecting  that  he  is  infect- 
ed with  that  fault  of  faults,  the  wish  to  retain  them.  Un- 
less I  entirely  misunderstand  his  character,  he  is  wishing, 
and  praying,  and  striving,  from  day  to  day,  that  he  may 
be  enabled  to  discover  and  correct  whatever  is  wrong  in 
his  views,  his  habits,  or  his  heart.  I  have  told  him,  I  was 
determined  to  treat  him  as  a  son,  and  to  keep  back  noth- 
ing from  him  that  appeared  profitable  for  him  to  know. 
With  this  plainness  of  speech,  he  was  manifestly  well 
pleased  ;  and  he  will  like  the  same  in  you.  You  will  find 
it,  however,  a  delicate  duty  to  perform,  and  sometimes 
difficult.  Two  or  three  hints  upon  this  subject,  though 
they  should  prove  unnecessary,  will  not  be  injurious. 
Never  tell  him  a  fault,  but  when  he  has  time  to  attend  to 
it ;  unless,  perhaps,  when  it  may  appear  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  prevent  immediate  evil.  Never  tell  him  a  fault, 
except  in  the  most  mild,  moderate,  and  tender  manner. 
Never  appear  confident,  that  he  is  in  a  fault,  unless  when 
he  is  manifestly  sensible  of  it  ;  but  only  query,  whether  in 
such  or  such  a  particular,  some  other  course  might  not 
have  been  preferable.  From  this  remark  may  be  excepted 
the  cases  wherein  he  is  sensible  of  his  fault,  and  only 
needs  your   assistance    as  a  promptress,  to  remind   him 


280 


DUTIES    OF    A 


when  he  is  peculiarly  exposed  to  fall  into  it.  Mrs.  W.,of 
D.,  is  probably  not  the  only  woman,  who  has  cured  her 
husband  of  speaking  too  rapidly.  She  used  to  say,  (and  I 
know  not  how  many  times  she  has  said  it,)  just  as  they 
were  entering  the  house  of  God,  "  Now,  my  dear,  you  will 
recollect  not  to  speak  so  fast."  Well  may  it  be  said  of 
such  a  wife,  "  Her  price  is  above  rubies."  It  is  possible 
he  may  sometimes  be  assisted  in  the  detection  of  his 
faults,  by  knowing  the  unfavorable  reports  that  others  may 
circulate.  How  far  it  may  be  best  to  inform  him  of  these, 
it  may  be  difficult  to  decide;  certainly,  in  some  cases; 
but  most  certainly,  not  in  all.  Whether  I  have  been  more 
benefitted  or  injured  by  the  knowledge  of  such  reports,  I 
am  doubtful.  With  regard  to  any  such  report,  deliberate- 
ly inquire  with  yourself,  in  the  first  place,  whether  it  is 
desirable  for  him  to  know  it.  If  you  decide  in  the  affirm- 
ative, then  give  him  the  information  in  a  manner  to  wound 
his  feelings  as  little  as  possible  ;  and  be  sure  not  to  mani- 
fest any  indignation  or  resentment  against  those  who  may 
have  raised  or  propagated  the  scandal.  Be  cautious,  also, 
that  you  do  not  aggravate  the  matter  by  stating  it.  I  have 
no  doubt,  it  will  be  said  of  him  after  his  death,  "  Ah,  he 
was  a  most  amiable  man,  so  mild,  so  gentle,  so  pleasant, 
and  the  very  pattern  of  meekness."     And  shall  it  be  said 

also ?     O,  if  in  your  power  to   prevent   it,  let  it 

never  be  said  with  truth, — "  For  once,  like  Moses,  he  was 
provoked,  and  spake  unadvisedly  with  his  lips."  Should 
he  ever  be  overtaken  in  such  a  fault,  may  it  not  be,  as  in 
the  case  of  Adam,  from  a  temptation  presented  by  his 
"  dearer  self?" 

Above  all,  you  may  help  him  to  break  down  and  to  de- 
stroy the  sectarian  prejudice  and  bitterness,  that  for  ages, 
have  prevailed  and  rankled  in  the  breasts  of  Baptists  and 
Pedobaptists,  against  each  other,  equally  distressing  and 
disgraceful  to  both.  Some  of  these  dreadful  Canaanites 
still  remain,  to  mar  the  heritage  of  the  Lord — to  defile  thy 
land,  O  Immanuel.  Carey  and  Ward,  and  Marshman 
and  Fuller  and  Woods,  and  many  others  have  done  much, 
to  destroy  these  cruel  foes  of  Zion.  I  do  hope,  and  trust, 
that  my  dear  brother  P.  will  be  enabled  to  do  more  in  this 
glorious  warfare,  than  any  of  these.  I  do  believe,  that 
the  Lord  has  raised  him  up,  and  peculiarly  qualified  him, 
for  this  very  object.     His  every  talent,  his  every  acquisi- 


MINISTER  S    WIFE. 


281 


tion,  whether  personal  or  menial,  appears  peculiarly  suited 
to  such  an  end.  The  blessedness  of  the  peace-maker 
will,  I  trust,  he  most  eminently  his;  and  yours  the  bless- 
edness of  being  his  nearest,  his  dearest,  his  most  efficient 
helper  in  the  blessed  work.  You  will  permit  me  to  say, 
that,  as  far  as  I  am  able  to  judge,  you  appear  better  fitted 
for  such  an  office  than  for  any  other.  The  Baptists  will 
love  you,  in  the  first  place,  for  his  sake;  and  as  you  can 
most  cordially  return  their  love,  they  will  love  you  for 
your  own  sake  ;  and  still  more,  I  trust,  for  Jesus'  sake. 
But  you  will  still  continue  to  love  your  Pedobaptist  con- 
nections, and  to  be  beloved  by  them,  with  unabating  ardor. 
You  will  still  consider  your  father  a  distinguished  saint  in 
glory,  whose  praise  is  in  all  the  churches  ;  you  will  con- 
sider your  mother  as  having  been  the  worthy  and  beloved 
companion  of  such  a  father;  you  will  consider  your  step- 
father as  reciprocating  with  her  and  her  children,  all  the 
respect  and  tenderness  that  the  immortal  Young  did  with 
his  Lucia,  Philander  and  Narcissa;  you  will  consider  your 
brother  and  sister,  as  justly  beloved  and  esteemed  by  all 
the  good.  Toward  such  connections,  you  never  can  feel 
one  moment's  indifference.  With  such  connections,  you 
must  ever  rejoice  to  feel  yourself  in  alliance.  Yes,  and 
your  dearest  friend  will  rejoice  with  you.  He  will  rejoice 
with  you,  and  not  only  "give  thanks  to  God  for  you,"  but 
for  your  connections.  Thus  united,  you  will  form  a  bond 
of  union  between  the  two  denominations — a  Peace  Soci- 
ety, constituted  and  cemented,  on  purpose  to  unite  those 
together,  who  are  united  to  Christ.  May  the  Almighty 
Prince  of  peace  bless  your  union,  and  smile  upon  your 
efforts,  and  enable  you  to  devise,  adopt  and  execute  such 
measures  as  may  be  most  conducive  to  the  advancement 
of  his  peaceful  kingdom. 

For  the  performance  of  these  various  duties,  and  many 
others  which  I  have  not  time  to  particularize,  you  will 
need  all  the  knowledge,  all  the  wisdom,  all  the  grace,  all 
the  prudence,  all  the  meekness,  all  the  fortitude,  all  the 
self-denial  and  all  the  resolution,  you  possess — all,  and 
more.  More  you  may  have.  More  you  must  have.  More 
you  must  seek.  These  are  good  things,  which  you  must 
ask  of  your  heavenly  Father.  These  are  good  things, 
which  your  heavenly  Father  will  delight  to  bestow  (See 
•24 


282 


DUTIES    OF    A 


James  1 :  5.  Prov.  2  :  1—9.  and  Zeph.  2  :  3.)     Study  and 
effort  must  be  joined  with  prayer. 

First  and  principally,  study  the  bible.  Surely  it  is  a 
fault,  an  enormous  fault,  of  most  christians,  whose  libra- 
ries are  enriched  with  various  books,  that  they  neglect  the 
bible.  They  are  far  from  devoting  to  it,  that  attention, 
which  its  sacred  contents  demand.  Is  not  this  the  great- 
est fault  of  the  Andover  students  generally  ?  I  have  no 
doubt,  it  has  been  the  greatest  of  my  beloved  brother  P. 
Of  this,  he  appears  sensible,  and  has  already  commenced 
reforming.  I  believe,  he  is  now  convinced,  that,  if  instead 
of  studying  German,  for  example,  he  had  employed  the 
same  time  in  gaining  a  familiar  acquaintance  with  the  most 
plain  and  easy  parts  of  the  bible,  the  acquisition  would 
have  been  ten  times  more  beneficial.  Some  things,  that 
may  appear  important,  must  often  be  neglected,  for  the 
sake  of  pursuing  that  which  is  more  important  still,  the 
study  of  the  bible.  We  are  too  apt  to  think,  that  we  can 
study  the  bible  at  any  time,  and  therefore  neglect  it,  for 
things  of  much  less  value.  Do  not  many  content  them- 
selves with  attending  to  those  things  which  are  remotely 
connected  with  scriptural  information,  to  the  neglect  cf 
those  of  more  intimate  connection?  or  with  attending  to 
things  comparatively  unimportant,  to  the  neglect  of  such, 
as  are  infinitely  momentous?  First,  then,  and  principally, 
if  you  would  be  an  effectual  helper  to  one  of  the  best  of 
men,  if  you  would  be  a  peace-maker  in  Israel — first  and 
principally,  study  the  bible.  Read  it  by  day  and  by  night ; 
meditate  upon  it  continually.  Do  not  spend  hour  after 
hour  in  attempting  to  understand  the  most  dark  and  diffi- 
cult passages,  that  are  of  secondary  importance ;  but  feed 
and  feast  your  mind,  with  such  as  are  easy,  that  you  may 
grow  up  unto  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  a  perfect  one 
in  Christ.  Be  sure  to  read  the  bible  through  in  course,  at 
least  once  a  year.  This  you  may  do,  by  reading  three 
chapters  every  day,  together  with  three  psalms  in  addi- 
tion, every  Sabbath.  Let  me  advise  you  to  begin,  where 
your  place  would  have  been,  had  you  commenced  the  bible 
with  the  year.  I  have  noted  in  the  margin  of  this  letter 
the  place  to  begin,  on  each  day  in  March.  Will  it  not  be 
some  satisfaction  to  think,  that  each  day  you  are  reading 
the  same  chapters  with  your  dearest  friend  1  When  you 
meet  with  a  passage   particularly  striking,  mark  it,  and 


minister's  wife.  283 

commit  it  to  memory.  From  time  to  time,  review  the 
passages,  thus  marked,  and  repeat  them  to  another  per- 
son, to  be  sure  you  have  learned  them  correctly.  You 
will  find  it  easier  to  learn  forty  detached  passages,  in  this 
way,  than  to  learn  a  chapter  containing  the  same  quanti- 
ty. The  detached  passages  also  will  be  much  more  valu- 
able, when  committed  ;  so  that  there  will  be  a  double  ad- 
vantage in  the  method  proposed.  There  is,  perhaps,  no 
other  way,  in  which  you  can  more  rapidly  accumulate 
spiritual  treasures.  There  are  only  about  forty  chapters, 
which  I  should  recommend  to  be  wholly  committed. 

Endeavor  to  fix  in  your  mind  the  leading  events  men- 
tioned in  scripture,  so  that  you  can  state  them,  and  be 
able  to  give  an  account  of  the  principal  scripture  char- 
acters. Acquaint  yourself  with  the  geography  and  chro- 
nology of  scripture  ;  at  least,  be  acquainted  with  the  prin- 
cipaf  places  and  most  important  eras  of  scripture. 

Fix  in  your  mind  the  principal  subjects  of  two  or  three 
hundred  of  the  most  important  chapters  ;  as  Gen.  1 — 
Creation ;  Gen.  2— Paradise  ;  Gen.  3— The  Fall  ;  Gen. 
4 — Cain  and  Abel;  Gen.  5 — Longevities;  Gen.  (5 — 8 — 
The  Flood  ;  Gen.  9— The  Rainbow  ;  Gen.  10— Origin  of 
several  nations  and  kingdoms;  Gen.  11 — Babel;  Gen. 
12 — Call  of  Abraham;  Gen.  13 — Separation  of  Abraham 
and  Lot,  etc.  etc. ;  Ex.  3 — The  Burning  Bush  ;  Ex.  20 
and  Dent.  6 — The  Ten  Commandments,  etc.  It  will  re- 
quire some  time  to  designate  and  express  the  subjects  ; 
but  it  will  be  time  well  spent,  whatever  those,  who  have 
never  practised  this  method,  may  conjecture  to  the  con- 
trary. This  method  will  greatly  aid  your  meditations, 
and  enable  you  to  redeem  many  a  preeious  hour.  If  I 
may  presume  to  mention  my  own  experience,  I  have 
often  found  it  pleasant,  and,  I  trust,  profitable,  to  think 
over  the  substance  of  whole  books,  during-  the  silent 
watches. 

It  may  be  useful  to  learn  the  answers  to  M'Dowell's 
Questions  ;  and  possibly  you  may  find  it  useful  to  devote 
some  attention  to  the  Union  Catechism,  especially  to  the 
Introduction,  in  which  you  will  find  the  best  rules  that 
I  can  give,  for  understanding  the  scriptures. 

Besides  reading  your  stated  chapters  in  course,  it  may 
be  well  to  read  a  few  chapters,  and  sometimes,  perhaps, 
fifteen  or  twenty,  in  other  parts  of  the  bible,  every  day. 


234  DUTIES    OF    A 

Whenever  your  attention  is  particularly  turned  to  any 
passage,  turn  to  it,  read  the  connection,  meditate  upon  it, 
and  render  it  as  profitable  as  possible. 

I  hope  you  will  not  consider  an  hour  in  a  day,  and 
sometimes,  when  you  have  leisure,  two  or  three  hours, 
too  much  time  to  be  devoted  to  the  sacred  volume. 

These  methods  of  studying  the  scriptures  are  not  mere 
theories.  They  have  been  tried;  and,  I  believe,  were 
never  faithfully  tried,  without  success.  These  methods, 
or  others,  more  useful  for  you,  I  hope  you  will  practice. 
Reading  according  to  some  good  method,  you  will  find 
doubly  advantageous.  You  will  be  likely  to  read  more, 
and  what  you  thus  read,  will  be  more  profitable.  May 
the  Lord  direct  and  aid  you  in  studying  his  word,  and 
make  you  mighty  in  the  scriptures,  and  thoroughly  fur- 
nished to  every  good  work. 

It  appears  to  me  more  and  more  important,  that  minis- 
ters and  their  companions  should  be  well  acquainted  with 
the  bible.  If  without  endangering  your  health,  or  neg- 
lecting important  duties,  you  can  possess  a  good  knowl- 
edge of  geography,  history,  and  philosophy,  it  is  well ;  it 
is  very  well.  But  these  things  are  mere  trifles,  compared 
with  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  and  salva- 
tion.    I  would  ten  times  rather  you  should  know  the  bible 

as  well  as ,  than   to  outshine  Mrs. ,  in  the 

hemisphere  of  science  and  literature. 

Next  to  the  bible,  those  books  will  be  found  most  use- 
ful, which  afford  most  assistance  to  understand,  to  re- 
member, to  feel,  to  practice  its  sacred  contents.  Almost 
any  commentary  may  be  useful  for  consultation.  Scott  is 
probably  best  for  reading  in  course;  Orton  next;  and 
Henry  next.  These  have  been  read  through,  and  some 
of  them,  at  least,  more  than  once,  by  the  same  person, 
with  very  great  advantage.  I  believe,  Mrs.  E.  has  found 
Orton  the  most  valuable  author  to  her,  she  ever  read.  Had 
she  read  through  Scott,  she  would  doubtless  have  found 
him  much  more  so  ;  but  whether  more  valuable,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  time  spent  in  reading,  is  doubtful.  I  would 
particularly  recommend  Mrs.  llowson's  Biblical  Dialogues 
and  Edwards  on  Redemption.  The  latter  may  well  be 
studied,  read,  or  thought  over,  every  year.  Most  of  Ed- 
wards's works  may  be  read,  and  read,  and  read  again, 
with  great  advantage.     The  works  which   I   have  recom- 


minister's  wife.  285 

mended  for  self-examination,  may  be  equally  profitable 
for  edification.  A  familiar  acquaintance  with  such  com- 
mon and  excellent  works,  must  be  highly  conducive  to 
the  influence  and  usefulness  of  a  minister's  wife.  To 
treat  with  contempt,  such  men  as  Baxter,  Flavel,  Dod- 
dridge, etc.  is  no  evidence  of  any  kind  of  greatness,  ex- 
cept it  be  the  greatness  of  folly  or  the  greatness  of  sin. 
The  sermons  of  Watts,  Saurin,  Davies,  Walker,  Brad- 
ley, and  Worcester,  are  undoubtedly,  among  the  very 
best  in  the  language.  Dwight's  Theology,  is  probably,  the 
most  useful  system  of  divinity,  that  has  yet  appeared. 
Prideaux's  Connection  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament, 
is  one  of  the  most  elaborate,  able,  and  correct  of  historic 
compositions.  The  first  part  of  it  to  the  days  Malachi, 
may  afford  very  great  assistance  in  understanding  the 
prophets.  The  whole  may  be  read  with  advantage.  The 
Night-Thoughts  is  probably  the  most  valuable  poem  that 
has  ever  yet  been  composed  by  man  ;  and  in  my  estima- 
tion, worth  more  than  all  others,  except  such  as  are  de- 
signed for  the  sanctuary.  Watts  on  the  Improvement  of 
the  Mind,  appears  better  suited  to  aid  the  investigations 
of  reason,  and  to  assist  in  the  communication  of  knowl- 
edge, than  his  Logic  or  any  other.  You  will  find  it  of  ad- 
mirable use,  to  direct  you  in  reading,  conversation,  and 
all  the  business  of  life.  Many  other  books,  I  could  re- 
commend ;  but  perhaps  I  have  recommended  too  many 
already.  One  of  my  greatest  fears  concerning  you,  is, 
that  you  will  read  too  many  books.  You  may  be  an  ex- 
cellent christian,  and  a  very  useful  character,  without  ever 
reading  one  of  the  books  which  I  have  mentioned,  except 
the  bible.  The  bible  you  must  read,  and  study,  and  un- 
derstand, and  remember,  and  feel,  and  practice;  "that 
first,  that  last,  that  midst,  and  without  end." 

Next  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  and  mental  im- 
provement, the  subject  of  conversation,  is,  perhaps,  the 
most  important.  The  principal  value  of  your  knowledge, 
will  arise  from  its  being  imparted.  The  principal  means 
of  imparting  it,  will  be  your  speech.  How  very  import- 
ant, then,  that  you  be  able  to  "  speak  well."  This  is  a 
talent,  which,  in  the  estimation  of  your  friend,  you  al- 
ready possess,  in  a  high  degree.  Whether  his  partiality 
has  adorned  you  with  this  precious  pearl,  I  cannot  de- 
cide.   However  that  may  be,  the  Lord  grant  he  may  neve? 


286 


DUTIES    OF    A 


lose  his  favorable  opinion  of  you  in  this  respect,  nor  in 
any  other.  The  probability  is,  that  his  view  of  this  sub- 
ject, is  at  least  partly  correct,  and  that  you  have  reason 
for  this,  to  thank  God  and  take  courage — to  bless  the 
name  of  the  Lord,  that  he  has  favored  you  with  a  talent 
that  is  so  delightful  in  its  exercise,  and  so  useful  in  its 
influence.  Let  it  be  your  daily  prayer  and  effort,  that  this 
talent  may  be  improved  to  the  utmost.  If  the  Lord  should 
smile  upon  your  efforts,  as  I  trust  he  will,  you  will,  pro- 
bably, be  able  to  do  more  good  to  your  associates  in  this 
way,  than  in  any  other.  Shall  I  suggest  a  few  hints  rela- 
tive to  the  improvement  of  this  talent?  If  they  should  be 
just  such  as  I  should  give  to  my  own  daughter,  I  trust, 
they  will  not,  on  that  account,  displease  you.  Good  con- 
versation must  always  be  founded  upon  wisdom  and 
knowledge.  Never  attempt  to  speak,  then,,  when  you 
have  nothing  to  say.  Endeavor  to  gain  a  correct  and  pre- 
cise acquaintance  with  the  words  and  phrases  in  common 
use  in  our  language.  The  meaning  of  our  words  and 
phrases  may  be  gained  by  listening  to  good  conversation, 
by  reading  good  style,  and  by  consulting  good  diction- 
aries. In  all  doubtful  cases,  have  recourse  to  the  diction- 
ary, if  possible.  Persons  may  often  commit  gross  mis- 
takes in  the  use  of  words,  without  mistrusting  it.  One 
method  to  prevent  this,  may  be  the  following.  Read  Miss 
Kingsbury's  Dictionary  with  close  attention,  marking  such 
words  as  have  definitions  particularly  instructive,  and  such 
as  you  would  remember  for  use.  One  young  lady  of  my 
acquaintance,  whose  mind  is  much  improved,  marked  more 
than  one  thousand  in  this  way.  Probably  she  never  learn- 
ed her  own  language  a  quarter  so  rapidly,  in  any  other  way. 
One  page  a  day  will  cost  you  but  a  few  moments  ;  which 
I  think,  may  be  better  spent  in  this  way,  than  in  study- 
ing mathematics.  For  a  reason,  that  1  cannot  now  ex- 
plain, I  would  request  you  to  mark  the  definitions,  that 
appear  incorrect.  By  the  assistance  of  a  friendly  monitor 
or  otherwise,  endeavor  to  detect  your  accustomed  verbal 
improprieties,  write  them  down,  and  avoid  them.  Never 
attempt  to  shine  in  conversation  by  using  expressions, 
that  may  not  be  perfectly  intelligible  to  all  the  company.  I 
should  not  be  much  pleased  to  hear  it  said,  that  you  con- 
verse chgantly.  I  wish  to  have  your  heart  so  deeply  in- 
terested with  your  remarks,  as  not  to  be  sensible,  whether 


minister's  wife.  287 

your  conversation  is  elegant  or  not.  Perhaps  it  is  not 
necessary  for  me  to  caution  you  against  all  kinds  of  stiff- 
ness and  affectation.  The  more  simple,  the  more  easy, 
the  more  natural  your  conversation  appears,  the  better. 
Be  very  sparing  of  puns  and  witticisms,  and  totally  avoid 
jesting,  and  all  other  forms  of  insincerity.  If  possible, 
converse  much  with  children,  in  whose  society  you  may 
feel  perfect  freedom  from  all  uncomfortable  restraint.  If 
you  have  leisure,  it  may  be  of  great  use  to  keep  school  a 
few  months.  It  would  probably  conduce  more  to  your 
improvement,  than  any  school  you  ever  attended  for  an 
equal  time.  You  may  perhaps  find  it  convenient  to  teach 
a  Sabbath  school.  In  conversing  with  your  equals  or  su- 
periors, be  cautious  not  to  say  too  much  or  too  little — not 
to  speak  too  fast  or  too  slow.  It  is  a  great  and  difficult 
point,  to  know  when  to  speak,  and  when  to  be  silent. 
Never  refuse  to  take  the  lead  in  conversation,  when  it 
obviously  falls  to  you,  nor  prevent  others  from  performing 
this  honorable  and  important  task,  when  it  falls  to  them. 
Avoid  and  prevent  scandal,  as  far  as  possible.  Speak 
very  little  of  yourself,  except  when  it  is  manifestly  required, 
or  to  confidential  friends.  Be  cautious  not  to  wound  the 
feelings  of  others  unintentionally.  Speak  with  the  utmost 
caution  in  the  hearing  of  strangers.  Never  reveal  the  se- 
crets of  others,  and  rarely  your  own.  In  disputation,  be 
calm,  moderate,  affectionate.  Query,  rather  than  assert. 
Never  dispute,  but  for  truth  ;  never  attempt  to  maintain  a 
point  you  do  not  believe  ;  nor  use  an  argument  that  does 
not  appear  solid.  Clearly  ascertain  and  define  the  ques- 
tion. Keep  closely  to  the  point,  and  do  all  you  kindly  can 
to  make  your  antagonist  do  the  same.  Be  ready  to  ac- 
knowledge your  error,  when  clearly  confuted  ;  and  never 
seem  to  exult  over  a  prostrate  opponent.  Never  substi- 
tute ridicule  nor  dogmatism  for  argument.  Do  not  cast 
your  pearls  before  swine  ;  nor  waste  your  arguments  upon 
those,  who  manifestly  have  not  "  sense  enough  to  be  con- 
futed." Carefully  writing  letters,  journals,  etc.,  is  an  ad- 
mirable method  of  improving  in  correct  conversation. 
Rhetoric  and  grammar  should  form  a  part  of  your  weekly 
studies.  But  perhaps  the  most  important  rule  for  conver- 
sation, is  to  remember,  that  for  every  idle  word,  we  must 
give  account  at  the  day  of  judgment. 


238  DUTIES    OF    A   MINISTER'S    WIFE. 

I  hope  this  long  letter  will  not  be  the  means  of  rousing 
your  efforts,  or  your  feelings,  to  the  injury  of  your  precious 
health.  Should  I  find  that  to  have  been  the  case,  I  shall 
lament  the  moment  I  ever  thought  of  such  a  project. 
Without  health,  all  your  other  talents  must  be  dormant. 
It  is  a  subject  unspeakably  momentous  ;  a  subject  that 
touches  the  very  centre  of  my  heart ;  a  subject,  that  forces 
tears  from  eyes,  that  have  almost  forgotten  to  weep.  O, 
my  Nancy,  my  beloved  Nancy  !  what  was  it  that  crushed 
thee,  and  tore  thee  from  my  bleeding  breast,  and  hid  thee 
in  an  untimely  grave  1 

u  Snatched  ere  thy  prime,  and  in  thy  bridal  hour ! 
And  when  kind  fortune  with  thy  husband  smiled  ! 
And  when  high-flavored  thy  fresh  opening  joys  ! 
And  when  blind  man  pronounced  thy  bliss  complete  I" 

Alas,  it  was  too  much  feeling,  too  much  solicitude  to 
be  qualified  for  her  expected  station,  too  much  effort,  too 
much  watchfulness.  Alas,  she  knew  not  what  she  did. 
Little,  little  did  she  suspect,  that  when  thus  anxiously  pre- 
paring to  aid  me  through  this  thorny  wilderness,  she  was 
preparing  to  pierce  my  heart  through  with  a  sharper 
thorn.  Could  she  have  suspected  the  tragic  issue,  surely 
she  would  have  spared  herself — spared  her  "  ceaseless 
depredations  on  a  life,  dearer  than  that  she  left  me."  But 
God  saw  fit  to  hide  it  from  her  view,  to  blast  our  earthly 
hopes,  and  call  her  to  the  skies.  Even  so,  Father,  for  so 
it  seemed  good  in  thy  sight.  Let  us,  then,  learn  wisdom 
from  the  error  of  the  lovely  dead.  "  For  us  she  languished 
and  for  us  she  died."  Let  us  learn  to  spare  ourselves,* 
while  we  can  do  any  thing  to  comfort  our  friends  in  their 
pilgrimage,  or  aid  them  in  their  progress  to  a  better  world. 
Let  your  health,  then,  be  an  object  of  constant  attention. 
Let  a  sense  of  duty  soothe  you  to  tranquillity.  Take  as 
much  repose  as  possible.  With  your  prospects,  with  your 
temperament  of  mind,  with  your  excitements,  you  cannot 
be  in  danger  of  loving  your  pillow  too  well,  or  of  pressing 
it  too  long.  Retire  at  10  and  repose  till  0  or  7.  [It  was 
then  Winter.]  If  the  midnight  hour  is  sleepless,  think 
over  the  Assembly's  Catechism,  or  a  chapter  in  the  bible, 
or  the  names  of  the  books  of  the  bible  backwards  and  for- 
wards, or  the  multiplication  table,  or  calculate  the  number 
of  inches  from  the  earth  to  the  sun.     Enjoy  as  much  ra- 


MISCELLANEOUS.  289 

tional,  cheerful  society,  as  possible.  Take  as  much  bodily 
exercise,  as  you  can  bear  without  injury.  Instead  of  read- 
ing two  octavo  volumes  in  three  weeks,  do  not  think  of 
reading  more  than  one  in  four  weeks.  Rejoice  in  the 
Lord  alway,  and  again  I  say  rejoice.  Such  a  course,  with 
the  blessing  of  God,  will  not  only  promote  your  health, 
but  ultimately,  conduce  to  your  improvement,  your  useful- 
ness, your  happiness,  your  exceeding  and  eternal  weight 
of  glory. 

Feb.  22,  lC2k 

My  dearest  Companion  ; — 1  have  written  a  long  let- 
ter to  Miss  II.  I  have  endeavored  to  state  and  enforce 
the  principal  duties  of  a  minister's  wife  as  solemnly  as 
possible.     May  the  Lord  add  his  blessing. 

Knowing  the  intimacy  that  existed  at  this  period  be- 
tween my  brother  and  Professor  Peck,  I  recently  request- 
ed him  to  furnish  me  with  such  facts  and  observations 
respecting  my  brother,  while  in  Charleston,  as  he  might 
deem  proper  for  the  present  work.  He  has  very  kindly 
complied  with  my  request ;  and  here  is  perhaps  the  best 
place  for  inserting  his  communication,  as  a  part  of  it 
comes  in  this  immediate  connection,  although  many  of 
the  more  general  remarks  are  equally  applicable  to  the 
subsequent  portion  of  my  brother's  life. 

"  In  the  winter  of  18*23-4,  Mr.  Emerson  visited  Charles- 
ton, S.  C.  to  restore  his  impaired  health.  I  had  the 
pleasure  then  of  residing  in  the  same  family  and  occupy- 
ing the  same  room  with  him  several  weeks,  and  of  ob- 
serving traits  of  his  character  at  times,  when  ill  health 
and  depressed  spirits,  or  the  natural  warmth  of  his  tem- 
perament, or  the  confidence  of  intimate  intercourse,  threw 
his  heart  and  his  habits  of  life  most  entirely  open  to  view. 
One  feature  of  his  character,  which  I  then  noticed  partic- 
ularly, was  the  habitual  fervor  of  his  devotional  feel- 
ings. No  one,  I  am  confident,  witnessed  the  manner  of 
his  conducting  family  worship,  without  noting  his  peculiar 
earnestness  and  solemnity  of  manner,  and  his  manifest 
sincerity  and  spirituality.  He  was  evidently  filled,  and 
at  times  almost  overwhelmed  with  his  conceptions  of  the 
majesty  of  God,  and  often  borne  away  by  his  delightful 
views  of  the  Savior's  love  and  grace,  while  he  uniformly 
25 


290  COMMUNICATION    FROM 

manifested  a  vivid  sense  of  the  odious  nature  of  sin,  and 
its  ruinous  effects  on  the  human  race.     It  was  the  same  in 
the  retirement  of  the  closet,  whenever  it  was  my  privilege 
to  unite  with  him  in  his  private  devotions.      That  his  pub- 
lic ministrations  were  of  the  same  nature,  is  well  known. 
A  second  trait  of  his  character,  was  what  may  be  termed 
his  impassioned  love  of  truth.     If  ever  there  was  a  man, 
who  sought  truth  for  its  own  sake,  and  disregarded  what- 
ever circumstances  would  have  rendered  it  unacceptable, 
or  made  its  acquisition  too  costly  to  ordinary  men,  it  was 
Mr.  Emerson.     Hence,  few  men   have   been  more  distin- 
guished for  candor  and  deliberation.     It  was  this  love  of 
truth,  united  with  a  strong  conviction,   that  one  of  the 
surest  means  of  arriving  at  truth,  is  free  and  fair  argumen- 
tation, that  frequently  led  him   into  controversial   discus- 
sions with  his  fellow-boarders.     Whenever  an  opinion  was 
advanced  or  a  statement  made,  which   he   deemed   erro- 
neous, he  did  not  fail  to  avow  his  dissent  frankly,  and  to 
give  his  reasons  for  it.     Yet  he  was  always  ready  to  listen 
to  the  reply,  to  give  it  its  just  interpretation,  and  to  award 
to  it  the  utmost  consideration  to  which  it  appeared  to  him 
entitled.     It  may  be  added  in   this   connection,  that  Mr. 
E.  was  remarkable  for  his  truly  enlarged  Catholicism.    He 
seemed  to  have  no  partizan  spirit.     It  could  not  be   said 
that  he  had  identified    himself  with  any  set  of  men  or 
opinions,  further  than  he  verily  believed   they  were  right 
and  true.     Even  where  he  had  formed  a  judgment  on  sub- 
jects of  grave  importance,  he  not  only  professed,  but  man- 
ifestly cherished  a  readiness  to  look  at  any  new  consider- 
ations or  facts  that  seemed  likely  to  give  them  a  different 
aspect.     He  was    altogether  removed   from  the  spirit  of 
those,  who,  when  they  have  formed  a  decided  opinion  on 
controverted  points  of  christian  faith   or  practice,  indulge 
feelings  of  reserve  if  not  of  personal  dislike  toward   all 
who  dissent  from  them.     At  one  period  of  his  life,  he  had 
been  strongly  inclined,  he  informed  me,  to   connect  him- 
self with  a  denomination  of  christians   whose   sentiments 
differed  on  some  points  from  those  he  had  since  held  ;  but 
he  had,  notwithstanding,  been  accustomed  to  regard  their 
progress  uniformly  with  a  cordial  good  will. — I  would  men- 
tion, as  another  prominent  trait  in  Mr.  E.'s  character,  his 
warm  and  expanded  benevolence.     In  whatever  form  suf- 
fering met  his  view,  he  felt  a  most  prompt  and  tender  sym- 


PROF.    PECK.  291 

pathy.  And  his  sympathy  was  not  inoperative.  He  was 
forward  to  relieve,  to  the  lull  extent  of  his  ability,  and  be- 
yond. The  duty  of  self-denial  for  the  sake  of  doing  good, 
he  studiously  advocated  and  conscientiously  performed. 
More  especially  his  conceptions  of  the  duty  of  christians 
to  make  sacrifices  for  the  recovery  of  our  race  from 
sin  by  the  universal  preaching  of  the  gospel,  were  far  in 
advance  of  the  spirit  of  the  times,  and  his  ardor  in 
carrying  out,  in  his  own  habits  of  life,  the  principles 
which  he  so  zealously  urged  on  others,  subjected  him, 
in  some  instances,  to  the  imputation  of  penuriousness, 
than  which  nothing  could  have  been  charged  on  him 
more  directly  at  contrast  with  his  truly  noble  generosity. 
May  the  time  soon  come,  when  it  shall  not  be  so  singular 
to  live  after  the  most  rigid  rules  of  temperance  and  sim- 
plicity, that  the  surplus  bounty  of  a  kind  Providence  may 
flow  out  in  more  abundant  streams  to  fertilize  the  parched 
places  of  the  earth. — Mr.  E.  did  not  limit  himself  to  any 
one  mode  of  benevolent  effort.  He  did  good  to  all  men 
as  he  had  opportunity.  His  mind  seemed  habitually  on 
the  watch  that  he  might  let  no  opportunity  go.  It  is  not 
impossible  that  his  solicitude  to  be  faithful  in  that  which 
is  least  no  less  than  in  that  which  is  great,  was  a  primary 
cause  of  his  loss  of  vigorous  health  and  his  consequently 
restricted  sphere  of  philanthropic  exertion.  No  man  could 
have  deplored  more  deeply  than  he,  the  want  of  physical 
power  to  carry  into  effect  the  warm  suggestions  of  his 
heart.  Yet  he  cherished  a  spirit  of  meek  acquiescence 
in  the  will  of  his  Heavenly  Father,  in  whose  wisdom  and 
love  his  confidence  was  like  that  of  a  little  child. 

"  With  all  these  excellences  of  character,  Mr.  E.  was 
a  man  of  great  humility.  It  was  a  deep-wrought  and 
abiding  feeling  in  him,  that  whatever  he  was  and  what- 
ever he  did,  that  was  acceptable  to  God,  was  the  direct 
result  of  divine  grace.  To  have  ascribed  any  service  to 
him,  as  if  it  entitled  him  to  reverence  and  praise,  was 
most  assuredly  to  give  him  pain.  Not  that  he  was  indif- 
ferent to  human  commendation  and  censure,  but,  while 
he  was  desirous  of  doing  things  good  and  acceptable  in 
the  sight  of  all  men,  he  was  most  happy  in  seeing  the 
fruits  of  his  labors  redound  to  the  glory  of  God,  to  whom 
alone  the  praise  of  his  virtues  and  labors  was  due." 


292  RELIGION    IN    BOSTON 

One  circumstance,  delicately  alluded  to  in  the  above 
communication,  requires  a  more  full  explanation.  The 
*  denomination  of  christians  to  which  he  was  once  strongly 
inclined/  is  that  of  the  baptists.  It  was  at  the  period 
when  he  was  connected  with  college.  The  occasion  of 
this,  as  he  once  informed  me,  was  his  frequent  attendance 
on  the  preaching  of  the  baptist  ministers  in  Boston.  And 
the  reason  of  that  attendance,  was,  that  their  preaching 
was  much  more  spiritual  than  he  elsewhere  found  in  that 
vicinity.  It  was  food  and  life  to  his  hungry  soul.  Nothing 
is  more  natural  than  that  his  renovated  spirit  should  seek 
its  best  aliment  wherever  it  could  be  found  ;  and  nothing 
more  natural,  than  that  he  should  thus  be  led  to  a  favorable 
presumption  respecting  other  matters  that  distinguished 
these  good  ministers  from  such  as  were  more  lax  in  doctrine 
and  formal  in  preaching.  Close  communion,  however,  he 
could  not  think  of  adopting  ;  and  on  further  examination, 
he  became  rooted  and  grounded  in  the  doctrine  of  infant 
baptism.  Still  he  always  loved  and  respected  this  denom- 
ination, the  more  on  account  of  the  early  benefit  he  re- 
ceived from  their  preaching. — No  one  need  now  resort  to 
the  baptists  to  find  good  preaching  in  Cambridge  and  its 
vicinity ;  nor  is  it  easy  for  us  of  late  years,  to  conceive  of 
the  spiritual  dearth  which  then  reigned  in  those  congrega- 
tional churches.  Doubtless  they  contained  many  pious 
persons  ;  but  they  had  little  religious  intercourse  or  ap- 
parent life.  They  had  nothing  like  prayer  meetings  and 
conferences  to  bring  them  acquainted  with  each  other  and 
to  "stir  up  their  pure  minds."  Low  arminianism,  and  a 
dead  and  undefined  orthodoxy,  mingled  with  great  world- 
liness,  pervaded  and  paralised  the  visible  body  of  believ- 
ers. All  was  still,  save  the  faint  cry  of  precedence.  It  was 
that  death-like  calm  in  the  spiritual  atmosphere,  which 
precedes  the  stiff  but  needful  gale  of  reformation,  or  the 
tornado  of  heresy  and  infidelity  ; — or,  as  it  may  be,  the 
wild  whirl  of  both  in  boisterous  collision  ! 

In  this  ill-boding  state  of  things,  when  the  wise  and  the 
foolish  were  slumbering  together,  the  baptists  were  awake. 
And  the  consequence  was,  that,  for  years,  they  gathered 
around  them  most  of  those  in  the  metropolis  whose  hearts 
were  touched  with  special  fervor  in  the  cause  of  God. 
This  concurrence  of  circumstances  has  probably,  in  its 
results,  done  more  for  the  prosperity  of  that  denomination 


FORTY    YEARS    AGO.  293 

in  the  vicinity,  than  any  thing  else  that  can  be  named. 
Their  godly  zeal  at  such  a  tune,  is  greatly  to  be  com- 
mended; and  God  has  greatly  blessed  them  in  connection 
with  it,  and  as  a  direct  consequence  of  it. 

Loving  pious  baptists  as  my  brother  did,  we  may  well 
account  lor  his  zealous  wish,  that  the  middle  wall  of  par- 
tition between  us,  may  be  broken  down.  Happy  the  day 
that  shall  see  it  fall  ;  and  fall  it  must  before  the  power  of 
truth  and  christian  love,  and  all  will  sit  down  together  at 
the  table  of  our  common  Lord, 

to   ins   WIFE. 

March  20. — I  hope  you  will  not  think  me  too  adventur- 
ous, when  I  tell  you,  I  have  commenced  my  lectures  on 
astronomy. 

I  have  received  a  letter  from  N.  Ingersoll,  stating  that 
she  was  much  indisposed,  and  intimating  that  she  did  not 
expect  to  continue  till  my  return.  If  we  have  one  sincere 
and  ardent  friend  in  the  world,  I  am  confident  she  is  such. 

TO    MISS    N.    INGERSOLL. 

Chn-hston,  March  21,  1324. 
As  the  time  of  my  departure  approaches,  I  feel  an  in- 
creasing pressure  of  cares  and  duties.  You  will  therefore 
excuse  a  few  very  imperfect  lines,  in  reply  to  your  most 
welcome  letter,  which  I  received  a  few  days  ago.  Scarce- 
ly ever  did  I  peruse  a  letter  with  more  interest,  or  more 
satisfaction.  I  think,  however,  I  should  have  been  more 
gratified,  if  you  had  not  said  and  implied  quite  so  much  in 
favor  of  one,  whose  numerous  imperfections  and  exceed- 
ing unworthiness  will  certainly  astonish  you  at  the  judg- 
ment day.  With  these  views  of  myself,  my  understanding 
cannot  but  view  the  Savior  as  unspeakably  glorious,  and 
transcendently  excellent.  I  should  certainly  dissemble,  if 
I  should  pretend  that  I  did  not  feel  an  ardent,  constant, 
and  delightful  affection  to  those  christian  friends,  that  I 
have  so  many  times  met  in  the  house  of  God,  at  the 
holy  table,  and  in  other  places.  But  1  fear  I  do  not  love 
them  for  Jesus'  sake.  What  is  more  natural  than  to  love 
those  who  love  us  ?  Do  not  even  the  publicans  the  same  ? 
There  is,  perhaps,  no  evidence  of  christian  sincerity  more 
25* 


294  DEATH    OF    MISS    1NGERSOLL. 

equivocal,  than  love  to  the  brethren.  The  grand  ques- 
tion is,  Do  we  love  them  for  Jesus'  sake  ? 

And  are  you  then,  "  hastening  to  your  narrow  house?" 
"  The  thought  of  death  indulge."  To  lay  to  heart  the 
end  of  all  men,  may  be  most  salutary  to  the  living.  But  I 
cannot  help  hoping,  the  Lord  has  more  work  for  you  to  do 
in  Beverly,  and  that  he  will  yet  lengthen  out  your  precious 
life,  and  add  to  your  days  more  than  fifteen  years.  I  trust, 
however,  death  will  not  surprise  you,  whether  it  come 
sooner  or  later.  How  cheering,  how  delightful,  how  glo- 
rious, how  enrapturing  the  thought  of  dying  in  the  Lord — 
of  dying  to  live  and  reign  with  Christ  forever ! 

The  names  that  you  mention,  are  all  precious,  as  well 
as  many  more  in  B.  The  sight  of  every  one  of  them 
seemed  to  touch  my  very  heart.  Assure  them  of  my  con- 
tinued love,  though  I  fear  it  is  all  selfish.  May  the  Lord 
bless  them  more  and  more  forever.  I  did  not  mention 
names  in  my  other  letter,  because  I  should  not  have  known 
where  to  end. 

I  have  much  reason  for  thankfulness  for  the  numerous 
expressions  of  kindness  that  I  am  continually  receiving  in 
this  hospitable  city.  Yet  there  is  no  person  who  is  to  me 
all  Mr.  B.  was.  I  long  to  hear  that  he  has  become  an  ar- 
dent christian.  I  trust  there  is  a  precious  store  of  prayers 
laid  up  for  his  salvation. 

I  hope  none  of  my  friends  will  be  grieved  that  I  write  to 
you  and  not  to  them.  If  I  had  time  and  strength,  I  should 
delight  to  write  ten  times  as  much  to  every  one  of  them. 
I  hope  they  will  consider  that  your  writing,  and  your  in- 
firmities, give  you  some  peculiar  claim.  And  I  hope  you 
will  not  be  grieved,  if  you  find  these  to  be  indeed  the  "  last 
words"  that  you  ever  receive  from  my  pen.  But  I  humbly 
trust  we  shall  enjoy  an  eternity  of  bliss  together.  1  expect 
to  see  you  again  in  this  world.  But  if  not,  I  trust  our 
separation  will  be  but  momentary — that  soon,  very  soon,  I 
shall  follow  you  to  a  better  world.  I  bid  you  a  short 
farewell. 

This  excellent  female  soon  slept  in  death. 

New-York,  April  21,  1824. 
My  dearest  Companion, — Agreeably  to  the  last  date 
of  my  No.  13,  I  sailed  on  the  19th  inst.     The  first  three 


INVITATION    TO    WETHERSFIELD.  295 

days  of  the  passage  were  remarkably  favorable,  and  I  took 
no  cold.  We  then  had  to  encounter  contrary  winds  from 
the  east,  which  were  extremely  chilly,  and  I  trembled  for 
the  consequences.  But  yesterday  and  to-day,  we  have  had 
delightful  land  breezes  from  the  west  and  south,  and  I  feel 
much  less  effect  of  the  cold  than  I  feared.  I  have  suffered 
considerably,  however,  from  sea-sickness.  Since  my  ar- 
rival, I  find  myself  stronger  than  could  be  reasonably  ex- 
pected. In  a  few  days  I  hope  to  be  able  to  proceed  to 
Wethersfield. 

TO    MISS    Z.    P.    GRANT,    AT    LONDONDERRY. 

New-York,  April  25,  1824. 

Just  before  I  left  Charleston,  I  received  a  communica- 
tion, signed  by  Mr.  Tenney  and  seven  others,  earnestly 
requesting  me  to  remove  my  seminary  to  Wethersfield. 
What  will  be  my  decision,  I  cannot  foretell.  Perhaps 
you  can  afford  me  some  light  upon  the  subject;  at  least, 
I  trust  you  will  pray  that  the  path  of  duty  may  be 
plain. 

I  am  still  ignorant  of  the  reasons  which  induced  you  to 
decline  my  offer.  I  am  confident,  however,  they  were 
such  as  satisfied  your  conscience  ;  and  therefore,  am  per- 
fectly satisfied  without  knowing  them.  I  most  ardently 
hope  your  usefulness  will  be  greater  than  it  could  have 
been  at  Saugus.  I  expect  Mrs.  E.  and  Nancy  will  assist 
me  the  ensuing  season. 

New-  York,  April  27,  1824. 

My  dearest  Companion, — I  expected  to  leave  this 
city  yesterday  morning  ;  but  yesterday  morning  I  could 
scarcely  walk  or  stand  alone.  The  night  preceding  I  was 
attacked  with  the  cholera  morbus,  and  had  a  most  dis- 
tressing time  from  twelve  o'clock  till  six.  I  could  not 
have  thought,  that  any  disease,  not  mortal,  could  have 
made  me  so  weak  and  so  haggard  in  so  short  a  time.  My 
distress,  however,  gradually  subsided,  in  the  use  of  castor- 
oil  and  arrow-root.  Last  night  I  slept  soundly  and  sweet- 
ly. This  morning  the  disease  appears  to  be  entirely  gone; 
and  it  is  no  less  wonderful,  than  delightful,  to  find,  how 
rapidly  my  strength  appears  to  be  returning.  In  a  very 
few  days,  I  hope  to  be  able  to  take  the  stage.     I  have  such 


296  HIS    RETURN. 

an  abhorrence  of  the  seas,  that  I  cannot  endure  the 
thought  of  going  in  the  steam-boat.  After  1  am  able  to 
stait,  I  shall  pursue  my  journey  as  rapidly  as  my  infirmi- 
ties will  admit ;  except  that  it  may  be  duty  to  pause  a  day 
or  two  at  Wethersfield. 

New-York,  April  30,  1824. 
I  am  still  lingering,  very  reluctantly,  in  this  city.  The 
rocks  of  Saugus  have  now  much  more  charms  for  me  than 
the  splendid  edifices  of  this  great  mart  of  the  new  world. 
I  am  sometimes  upon  the  very  borders  of  impatience. 
But  impatience  is  a  most  miserable  medicine  for  a  sick 
man ;  and  so  1  endeavor  to  quiet  myself  as  much  as  possi- 
ble. To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  more  unwell  than  I  ex- 
pected, at  this  time,  to  find  myself.  I  have  been  seriously 
threatened  with  a  fever.  After  using  all  possible  means 
for  my  recovery,  I  wish  to  submit  myself  unreservedly  to 
the  care  of  the  great  Physician,  who  is  able  to  do  for  us 
exceeding  abundantly  above  all  we  can  ask  or  think. 

How  soon  after  the  above  date  my  brother  returned  to 
Saugus,  I  am  unable  to  state  ;  but  probably  within  a  few 
days.  It  is  also  probable  that  he  executed  his  purpose  of 
visiting  Wethersfield  on  his  way. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 


FROM     HIS     RETURN     TO     SAUGUS,     TO     HIS     REMOVAL     TO 
WETHERSFIELD.        1824. 


Resumes  his  labors  in  the  Seminary — Reasons  for  leaving 
Saugus —  Whelpley's  Compend. 

After  his  return  to  Saugus,  my  brother  resumed  his 
seminary,  and  continued  it  through  the  summer  season: 
but  with  what  comparative  degree  of  success,  I  am  not  able 
to  state. 

He  was,  however,  still  very  feeble ;  so  much  so,  indeed, 
that  it  became,  in  his  view,  and  that  of  many  of  his  friends, 
a  question  of  life  and  death,  whether  he  should  any  longer 
attempt  to  sustain  the  two-fold  olhce  of  preacher  and  pre- 
ceptor. It  is  true,  he  was  not  under  obligation  to  preach, 
when  inconsistent  with  his  health ;  still,  a  mind  like 
his,  could  not  well  rest  when  his  people  and  his  school 
could  not  be  regularly  supplied  with  so  important  a  means 
to  their  present  and  eternal  improvement,  as  that  of  the 
preached  gospel.  Of  course,  he  was  very  liable  to  go  be- 
yond his  strength,  and  to  endanger  his  life  in  attempting 
to  furnish  such  a  supply.  The  truth  is,  that  whatever  ar- 
rangements may  be  made  for  exonerating  a  feeble  pastor 
from  responsibility  in  the  eye  of  his  people,  still,  if  they 
are  not  regularly  supplied,  a  sense  of  their  need  will  prey 
upon  his  spirits,  if  it  do  not  prompt  him  to  actual  expos- 
ures,— and  often  the  more  so  in  proportion  to  his  feeble- 
ness. Thus  the  very  circumstance  of  supplying  a  desti- 
tute people,  which  had  been  a  powerful  inducement  to 
bring  him  to  Saugus,  now  operated,  alter  having  made  the 
perilous  attempt,  to  induce  him  to  leave  the  place.     To 


298  REMOVAL    TO    WETHERSFIELD. 

continue  his  school  in  a  place  where  his  scholars  and  his 
family  could  not  regularly  enjoy  preaching,  and  that  of  the 
right  kind,  was  out  of  the  question. 

Still,  the  thought  of  leaving  his  people,  to  whom  he  had 
become  not  a  little  attached,  and  especially  of  leaving 
them  in  so  destitute  a  situation,  was  deeply  trying  to  his 
feelings,  as  he  frequently  expressed,  both  orally  and  in  his 
letters. 

With  this  view  of  the  case,  in  connexion  with  the 
advice  of  many  of  his  friends,  he  concluded  to  accept 
the  offers  and  comply  with  the  solicitations,  made  to 
him  some  months  before  by  the  good  people  of  Wethers- 
field,  Ct.  In  these  movements  at  W.,  his  friend  and  com- 
panion in  youth,  Rev.  C.  J.  Tenney,  bore  a  conspicuous 
part. 

Accordingly,  having  completed  his  arrangements  by 
the  purchase  of  a  house,  near  the  commodious  public  build- 
ing in  which  his  school  was  to  be  accommodated,  he  re- 
moved to  W.  in  the  autumn. 

While  on  his  journey  he  wrote  the  following  to  Miss 
Grant,  who  had  now  the  charge  of  a  school  in  Londonder- 
ry, in  which  he  ever  appeared  to  take  nearly  the  same 
interest  as  in  his  own. 

Worcester,  Nov.  18,  1824 

I  was  so  much  interested  with  your  school  and  your 
conversation,  that  I  believe,  I  did  not  mention  my  inten- 
tion of  publishing  our  system  of  Artificial  Memory  in  con- 
nection with  the  next  edition  of  Whelpley.  Will  you  be 
so  kind  as  to  send  me  a  copy  of  all  the  names  which  you 
have  chronologized  ? 

May  the  Lord  grant  you  consolation  and  strength,  in 
proportion  to  the  greatness  of  your  trials  and  the  import- 
ance of  your  labors. 

Whelpley's  "  Compend  of  History,"  of  which  he  here 
speaks,  had  been  considerably  improved  by  my  brother 
at  a  previous  period,  and  had  now  passed  through  sev- 
eral editions.  He  afterwards,  with  much  labor,  made 
further  improvements  in  this  excellent  classic.  Its  use- 
fulness in  schools,  was  much  increased  by  his  printed 
questions  to  the  work,  and  by  his  Imperial  and  Biograph- 
ical Chart,  which  is  prefixed  to  the  volume. 


CHAPTER    XVII 


FROM    HIS    REMOVAL     TO     WETHERSFIELD,     TO    HIS     THIRD 
VISIT    AT    THE    SOUTH.       1824 1830. 


Location  at  Wether sfi eld — Death  of  a  mother-in-law — 
Reports  of  his  change  in  religious  opinions — Publishes 
the  course  of  study  in  his  seminary,  etc. — Recitation 
lectures  for  the  winter — Revival  in  his  seminary —  The 
bible  as  a  classic — Religion  to  be  taught  in  schools — 
Principles  of  economy — On  the  study  of  languages — 
Death  of  Mrs.  Judson — On  unfolding  the  faculties — 
Questions  to  Goodrich's  history — On  grammars — 
Poetic  Reader — Publication  on  the  study  of  our  his- 
tory— fits  letter  on  masonry — Death  of  a  child — 
Fears  of  fanaticism — Visits  Massachusetts — New  chart 
of  history — Popular  lectures  on  history — Preaches  on 
popery — Returns  to  W. — Excursion  to  Massachusetts — 
New  remedy — Returns  to  W. 

After  so  many  vicissitudes,  and  in  so  frail  a  tenement 
as  his  enfeebled  body,  it  may  well  be  supposed  that  he 
should  indulge  no  very  confident  expectations  from  his 
own  labors.  Still  his  hope  was  not  broken,  nor  was  his 
zeal  in  the  least  abated.  Soon  after  his  arrival  in  Weth- 
ersfield,  he  wrote  thus  to  his  brother  at  Holies. 

Wdhersfidd,  Nov.  25,  1824. 
My  dear  Brother  W. — By  the  great  mercy  of  our 
heavenly  Father,  my  family  have  all  been  brought  hither 
in  6afety  and  comfortable  health.     We  know  not  what  will 


300  DEATH  OF  MRS.  EATON. 

be  the  issue  ;   but  at  present,  our  prospect  appears  favor- 
able. 

In  two  or  three  days,  I  expect  to  be  in  my  own  house. 

TO    MR.    EATON,    FATHER    OF    HIS    FIRST    WIFE. 

Wether sjield,  April  17,  1825. 

My  dear  and  much  respected  Father, — Again  the 
Lord  is  covering  us  with  a  cloud — perhaps,  in  his  anger. 
It  may  be,  however,  that  in  relation  to  our  dear  departed 
friend,  we  have  much  more  occasion  to  sing  of  mercy, 
than  to  sigh  of  judgment?  How  few  of  her  age,  are  still 
among  the  living  !  Instead  of  prematurely  taking  her 
away,  like  our  beloved  Nancy,  he  has  spared  her  to  a 
good  old  age:  And  has  not  her  path  been  shining  brighter 
and  brighter,  from  year  to  year  1  From  our  first  ac- 
quaintance in  1798,  she  seems  to  have  omitted  no  op- 
portunity of  manifesting  her  kindness.  In  your  secluded 
and  peaceful  dwelling,  I  have  spent  hundreds  of  hours, 
upon  which  I  look  as  among  the  most  happy  of  my  life. 
Of  the  numerous  visits,  that  I  have  made  you,  every  one 
has  been  pleasant,  at  least  to  myself;  and  I  hope,  I  can 
also  add  with  truth,  that  every  one  has  been  useful.  For 
these  effects,  she  contributed  her  influence.  "  I  loved 
her  much;  but  now  I  love  her  more."  "  How  blessings 
brighten,  as  they  take  their  flight."  I  trust  she  has  en- 
tered into  the  joy  of  her  Lo<rd,  to  go  no  more  out  forever. 
Though  my  health,  since  my  arrival,  has  not  equalled  my 
hopes,  still  I  do  not  despair  of  deriving  substantial  bene- 
fit in  this  respect,  from  my  residence  in  this  most  delight- 
ful village. 

TO    MISS    Z.    P.    CRANT. 

Wethers  field,  April  28,  1825. 

Though  pressed  with  business,  I  have  endeavored  to 
practice,  what  I  so  often  repeat  to  brother  invalids,  "  Do 
thyself  no  harm."  I  have  about  two  cords  of  wood,  al- 
most wholly  sawed,  split  and  piled  with  my  own  hands, 
besides  supplying  two  or  three  fires.  I  do  indulge  the 
hope,  that  my  health  is  substantially  improved.  But  as 
long  as  I  continue  in  this  tabernacle,  I  shall  doubtless 
have  occasion  to  take  up  the  lamentation,  "  Lord  what  a 
feeble  piece."     I  have  not  done  with   projects  ;  and   am 


FALSE    REPORTS.  301 

still  dreaming  (perhaps  nothing  more  than  dreaming)  of 
important  improvements  ;  1   need  not  tell   you   in   what. 

"  Hills  over  hills,  and  Alps  o'er  Alps  arise." 

Still  it  is  delightful  to  climb,  though  but  in  imagination. 
May  you  be  able  to  do  better,  than  I  have  thought.  Give 
my  love  to  my  former  pupils,  now  your's.  I  do  not  know 
that  I  can  give  you  any  important  hints  concerning  them. 

You  will  not  forget,  that  I  wish  to  improve,  as  far  as 
possible,  whatever  J  am  concerned  in  publishing. 

May  it  not  be  well  to  teach  your  pupils  Euclid,  before 
philosophy  and  astronomy ;  for  the  same  reason  that  we 
should  teach  addition  before  multiplication  ;  or  at  least, 
geography  before  history  ? 

The  next  letter  is  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Ellingwood  of 
Bath.  The  notice  prefixed  to  it  by  Mr.  E.  will  render  it 
intelligible. 

While  at  Beverly,  on  a  visit,  I  found  a  report  circu- 
lating extensively,  that  he  had  become  a  Universalist.  I 
thought  it  important  to  inform  him  of  this  report  and  get. 
a  letter  from  him  to  show  to  the  Beverly  people  before  I 
left  the  place.     The  following  letter  is  his  reply. 

J.  W.  E. 


Wether sfield,  July  20,  1825. 

My  very  dear  Brother, — You  will  accept  my  most 
cordial  thanks  for  your  kind  letter.  Feeble  health  and 
peculiar  pressure  of  duties  must  apologize  for  the  short- 
ness of  my  reply.  The  late  report  respecting  my  change 
of  sentiment,  is  just  as  well  founded,  and  just  as  true,  as 
some  former  reports  relating  to  my  change  of  sentiments. 
It  is  my  earnest  wish,  that  those  who  are  interested  to 
know  my  views  and  feelings  upon  the  subject  of  univer- 
salism,  may  hear  (if  possible  from  your  lips)  a  series  of 
letters  upon  this  subject,  lately  published  in  the  Connec- 
ticut Observer.  I  consider  this  discussion  of  the  subject, 
very  much  superior  to  any  other  which  I  have  seen.  If 
the  remaining  letters  should  prove  as  good  as  the  six  pub- 
lished, I  think  they  will  form  as  useful  a  tract  as  any  that 
has  yet  appeared.  Next  to  unitarianism,  I  consider  uni- 
26 


302  FALSE  REPORTS. 

versalism  the  most  dangerous  of  errors.  These  two  er- 
rors tend  exceedingly  to  produce,  and  nourish,  and  invig- 
orate each  other.  But  I  consider  unitarianism  the  more 
dangerous  of  the  two,  principally  from  its  greater  tenden- 
cy to  produce  universalism. 

These  letters  are  said  to  be  the  production  of  brother 
H of  H d. 

The  report  mentioned  above,  is  one  which  I  should  by 
no  means  have  expected,  as  he  was  always  so  full  and  de- 
cided in  all  his  preaching  and  conversation  on  the  great 
evangelical  doctrines.  It  was  by  no  means  so  strange, 
though  equally  without  foundation,  that  reports  should 
occasionally  be  circulated  of  his  having  become  a  baptist, 
or  being  about  to  become  one.  The  truth  is,  that  after  the 
early  period  already  mentioned,  he  had  no  wavering  on 
the  main  question  of  baptism,  nor  did  he  probably  ever 
waver  as  respects  other  questions  above  referred  to.  Still 
he  was  always  so  kind  to  those  who  differed  from  him  in 
opinion,  and  so  ready  and  so  hearty  in  his  commendations 
of  all  which  he  approved  in  their  opinions  or  practices,  and 
so  ready  to  co-operate  with  them  in  every  good  work,  that 
it  is  by  no  means  strange  that  some  of  them  should  occa- 
sionally express  the  hope,  that  his  candor  and  love  would 
soon  make  him  wholly  right:  and  from  such  expressions, 
reports  of  this  kind,  might  easily  and  perhaps  innocently 
be  formed,  in  passing  from  one  to  another. 

In  this  place,  perhaps,  it  may  be  as  well  to  state  a  single 
fact  that  belongs  to  the  impartial  history  of  his  opinions,  as 
to  reserve  it  to  the  period  when  he  first  made  it  known  to 
me,  and  I  suppose  to  a  few  others.  A  year  or  two  before 
his  death,  it  became  a  serious  question  with  him,  whether 
the  scriptures  do  not  authorize  a  second  baptism  in  the 
case  of  such  converts  as  were  baptized  in  infancy.  His 
mind  was  considerably  tried  on  this  question,  while,  at 
the  same  time,  it  became  if  possible  more  confirmed  in  the 
duty  and  privilege  of  infant  baptism,  as  will  appear  in  the 
sequel  of  this  narrative.  One  thing  became  quite  fixed  in 
his  view,  in  relation  to  this  topic,  viz.  that  if  the  texts 
which  are  generally  adduced  in  favor  of  "  believers'  bap- 
tism," do  support  that  practice,  they  support  it  in  connec- 
tion with  infant  baptism,  and  not  in  opposition  to  it.  It 
was  his  purpose,  as  he  informed  me  on  his  death  bed,  to 


PUBLICATIONS,    ETC.  303 

state  at  length  the  process  of  his  mind  on  that  subject,  if 
spared  to  complete  a  memoir  of  himself.  We  had  before 
conversed  on  the  question  at  considerable  length,  and  at 
different  periods  ;  but  I  need  not  detain  the  reader  with  a 
more  minute  statement  of  his  views  or  his  expectations. 
He  had  probably  studied  the  scriptures  on  the  question  of 
baptism,  more  than  most  ministers  of  either  denomination. 
The  particular  position  in  which  his  mind  became  fixed, 
and  which  I  have  put  in  italics,  I  confess  appeared  to  me 
just,  and  1  was  led  to  wonder  that  I  had  not  before  seen 
the  same  ground  assumed  and  defended. 

The  first  season  at  W.  the  numbers  in  the  seminary 
and  the  preparatory  school,  amounted  to  about  one  hun- 
dred. After  its  close,  he  spent  a  few  weeks  in  visiting  his 
friends  in  Massachusetts. 

In  January  1826,  he  published  a  "  Prospectus"  of  his 
"Seminary,  comprising  a  general  Prospectus,  Course  of 
Instruction,  Maxims  of  Education,  and  Regulations  of  the 
Seminary,  with  Notes  relating  to  Books,  Branches  of  Lit- 
erature, Methods  of  Instructions,  etc.  etc."  In  this  pam- 
phlet, consisting  of  60  pages,  we  find  much  valuable  mat- 
ter on  the  subject  of  education,  in  addition  to  the  particu- 
lar account  of  the  seminary.  It  was  designed  for  general 
usefulness  no  less  than  for  the  purpose  of  making  known 
more  widely  the  nature  and  objects  of  his  institution. 

He  also  published  subsequently  a  notice,  in  12  pages, 
of  his  "  Recitation  Lectures  upon  the  Acquisition  and 
Communication  of  Thought."  This  course  of  lectures, 
about  130  in  number,  were  designed  "  as  a  supplement 
to  the  instruction  in  the  seminary,"  for  the  benefit  of  those 
who  wished  to  pursue  their  studies  further.  It  was  for  a 
winter's  course,  embracing  mental  improvement,  rhetoric, 
composition,  Latin,  hermeneutics,  etc..  to  be  pursued  by 
1  lecturing  and  familiar  colloquial  discussion,  united  with 
the  recitation  of  regular  lessons.'  The  scheme  was  some- 
what novel.  We  may  learn  something  of  its  success  in 
the  sequel.  As  to  Latin,  his  design  was  to  teach  but 
little  of  it ;  and  that,  with  special  reference  to  the  deriva- 
tion of  English  words.  He  accordingly  devised  a  plan  of 
teaching  it  for  this  purpose. 

The  next  extract  will  present  the  feelings  of  a  father's 
heart  on  the  first  expression  of  a  christian  hope  by  his 
children.  It  is  to  the  family  of  Dea.  Hasseltine,  his  father- 
in-law. 


304  REVIVAL    IN 

Wethersfield,  May  29,  1826. 

Very  dear  Parents  and  Sisters, — Can  it  be — can 

you  believe  it  possible,  that  three  of  my  children  have  re- 
cently obtained  hope  of  pardoning  mercy  1  Perhaps  your 
fear  and  trembling  will  be  no  less  than  your  joy  and  as- 
tonishment, when  I  assure  you  of  this  most  interesting 
fact.  It  is  what  I  can  scarcely  realize.  God  grant,  that 
neither  of  them  may  be  found  at  last  to  have  indulged 
merely  the  hope  of  the  hypocrite.  The  revival  appears  to 
be  progressing.  About  thirteen  of  my  pupils  are  indulg- 
ing hope,  and  perhaps  a  greater  number  of  the  parish.  We 
feel  more  and  more  delightfully  attached  to  our  pastor. 
What  a  privilege  to  enjoy  the  ministry  of  such  a  man  ! 
Such  an  inestimable  treasure  may  you  enjoy,  "  till  nature 
yields  to  heaven." 

TO    MISS    GRANT. 

Wethersfield,  July  8, 1826. 

During  the  last  summer,  my  pupils  manifested  an  unu- 
sual degree  of  indifference  with  regard  to  religion.  The 
coldness  of  our  spiritual  atmosphere,  exhibited  a  striking 
and  dreadful  contrast  to  the  intensity  of  natural  heaty 
which,  for  so  long  a  time,  was  burning  around  us.  There 
is  some  reason  to  fear,  that  among  perhaps  ninety  impeni- 
tents,  there  did  not  occur  a  single  case  of  conversion,  nor 
indeed  of  genuine  conviction.  The  dear  little  band  Of 
praying  sisters,  though  continuing  to  meet  from  week  to 
week,  for  the  purpose  of  united  intercession,  was  often 
found  to  consist  of  only  four  or  five  individuals.  Their 
influence  upon  so  great  a  number  of  unbelieving  asso- 
ciates, you  may  well  suppose,  was  extremely  small.  In 
some  respects,  indeed,  my  school  was  peculiarly  pleasant, 
and  my  task  delightful.  It  is  perhaps  rare  to  see  in  one 
school-room  so  large  and  so  lovely  a  company,  who  lack 
the  "  one  thing  needful."  Perhaps  no  class  of  their  pre- 
decessors have  been  more  distinguished  for  good  order,  in- 
dustry, proficiency,  and  amiable  deportment.  But  all 
these  are  not  Christ.  And  often,  when  my  friends  were 
congratulating  my  prosperity,  and  manifestly  rejoicing  in 
the  number,  respectability,  and  good  conduct  of  my  pu- 
pils, my  heart  was  sad.  I  was  fearing  and  trembling,  lest, 
with  very  few  exceptions,  they  were  preparing  for  a  more 


HIS    SEMINARY.  305 

aggravated  condemnation  and  deeper  wo.  The  literary 
operations  of  the  present  term,  I  commenced  with  gloomy 
anticipations  and  painful  forebodings.  My  unbelieving 
heart  was  ready  to  tell  me,  that  my  usefulness,  as  a  teacher, 
was  closed  forever;  as  literature  and  mental  improvement, 
unsanctified  by  love  to  God,  are  but  as  sounding  brass,  a 
tinkling  cymbal,  or  the  means  of  evil.  I  felt  constrained 
to  intimate  my  feelings  to  my  brethren  and  sisters  of  this 
numerous  church.  At  the  close  of  their  sacred  feast,  I 
requested  them  to  remember  my  pupils,  and  entreated 
them  to  pray  earnestly,  that  those  who  had  come  from 
other  towns,  and  other  states,  who  had  left  their  beloved 
homes  to  reside  among  us,  might  not  here  spend  their 
money  for  that  which  is  not  bread,  and  their  labor  for  that 
which  satisfieth  not.  With  this  request,  I  have  no  doubt 
many  of  the  members  have  complied  ;  and  I  have  the  most 
delightful  assurance  that  their  prayers  have  been  effectual. 
And  it  may  be,  that  before  they  called  the  Lord  answered. 
I  am  not  certain,  whether  it  was  a  little  before,  or  a  little 
after,  or  on  that  very  day,  that  the  gracious  drops  began 
to  fall  upon  my  little  vineyard,  and  to  water  some  of  my 
pleasant  plants.  The  effects  were  soon  perceptible  ;  and 
one  and  another  were  apparently  found  to  bring  forth 
fruits  of  holiness.  For  more  than  two  months  the  sacred 
dew  has  been  distilling;  and  we  have  felt  its  refreshing, 
vivifying  influence.  Nor  has  my  enclosure,  like  the  fleece 
of  Gideon,  been  blest  alone,  as  it  was  at  Byfield.  The 
sacred  influence  has  been  vouchsafed  to  fields  around  us  ; 
and,  I  trust,  is  still  continued  without  abatement.  About 
thirty  of  my  charge  have  expressed  a  hope  of  having  here 
experienced  renewing  grace  and  pardoning  mercy — five 
of  them  members  of  my  family,  three  my  children. 

How  many  of  these  are  genuine  converts,  it  is  not  for 
me  to  say.  Most  confident  I  am,  that  God  the  Holy  Spirit 
has  been  here,  and  is  still  among  us,  to  convict  and  to 
convert — to  deliver  from  eternal  death — to  bestow  the 
blood-bought  treasures  of  everlasting  love  ;  and  though  my 
strength  has  been  much  weakened  in  the  way,  yet  herein 
I  rejoice,  and  will  rejoice.  O  magnify  the  Lord  with  me, 
and  let  us  exalt  his  name  together.  The  number  of  my 
pupils  is  about  eighty-five,  more  than  half  of  whom,  I  sup- 
pose, are  indulging  at  least  a  trembling  hope.     Such  a 


306  EDUCATION. 

season  of  divine  refreshing,  1  had  not  presumed  to  antici- 
pate. 

It  has  been  unspeakably  gratifying  to  find,  that  several 
of  my  former  pupils,  while  revisiting  the  place  and  the 
seat  of  their  literary  labors,  have,  as  we  hope,  been  made 
partakers  of  the  heavenly  gift. 

I  am  exceedingly  desirous  of  knowing  the  state  of  your 
health,  and  of  your  school.  May  the  Lord  bless  you  more 
and  more.  I  hope  my  health  has  begun  to  improve ;  and 
that  after  vacation  I  may  be  able  to  resume  all  my  labors. 

TO    THE    SAME. 

Wethers  field,  Sept.  10,  1826. 

My  health  is  considerably  improved.  The  revival  con- 
tinues. My  task,  from  day  to  day,  is  most  delightful, 
though  not  without  some  trials.  I  hope  I  have  made  some 
important  improvements  in  the  art  of  teaching,  since  I 
saw  you.  Do  choose  a  secretary  to  record  the  useful  hints 
that  occur  to  you  from  day  to  day.  It  may  do  more  good 
to  the  next  generation,  than  all  your  other  labors. 

TO    REV.    DR.    EDWARDS. 

WethersfieU,  Oct.  26,  1826. 

You  may  regard  it  preposterous  in  me  to  think  of  writ- 
ing a  tract  upon  "  Christian  Education."  But  you  will 
consider  that  it  is  one  thing  to  think  of  writing,  and  quite 
another  to  anticipate  the  prize.  The  necessary  effect  of 
such  an  effort  must  be,  to  a  person  of  my  pursuits,  a  re- 
ward much  more  valuable  than  the  sum  that  is  offered. 
And  as  for  the  honor,  I  shall  never  be  ashamed  to  have 
you,  and  every  christian  know,  that  I  have  made  the 
greatest  possible  exertion  in  so  noble  a  cause,  and  failed 
of  gaining  among  many,  what  one  only  can  obtain. 

My  greatest  desire  for  living  a  few  years  longer,  is,  that 
I  may  write  a  volume,  containing  the  result  of  my  experi- 
ence, reading,  and  speculations  upon  the  subject  of  edu- 
cation. My  present  theory  is,  (a  theory,  which  the  provi- 
dence of  God  has  very  gradually  led  me  to  adopt — a  theo- 
ry, in  which  I  feel  more  deeply  and  awfully  interested 
than  ever  I  did  in  any  other,)  my  present  theory  is,  that 
the  bible  is  the  book  of  books  for  schools,  academies,  col- 


EDUCATION.  307 

leges — the  book  of  books,  not  only  to  direct  the  conduct, 
convert  the  soul,  and  save  the  world  ;  but  to  discipline  the 
faculties — and  that  its  sacred  and  richly  diversified  pages 
are  sufficient  for  the  stupendous  purpose,  without  the  aid 
of  Homer,  Virgil,  or  Newton.  It  is  therefore  my  opinion 
that  no  other  study  should  be  pursued,  merely  or  princi- 
pally, as  an  exercise  to  improve  the  intellect.  It  is  also 
my  opinion,  that  it  is  most  undesirable  for  me  and  for  you, 
and  for  all  of  like  professions,  to  be  distinguished  as  min- 
eralogists, geologists,  chemists,  natural  philosophers, 
linguists,  etc.  We  have  not  time — no,  my  brother, 
we  have  not  time,  to  devote  much  attention  to  these 
things.  A  very  little  knowledge  of  these  will  suffice  us 
for  all  practical  purposes.  I  mean  a  little,  compared  with 
the  knowledge  of  the  bible,  which  we  need  continually. 
Our  bible,  our  salvation,  our  closets,  our  flocks,  our  pupils, 
the  salvation  of  the  world,  should  engage  and  exhaust  our 
utmost  energies. 

TO    MISS    GRANT. 

Wether sjield,  Nov.  8,  182G. 

My  dear  Sister, — My  seminary  is  now  closed  ;  which 
allows  me  opportunity  to  answer  your  very  interesting 
letter  of  Oct.  ;J4..  I  am  more  and  more  impressed  with 
the  importance  and  duty  of  contending  earnestly  for  the 
faith.  Never  before  did  I  so  deeply  feel  the  awful  respon- 
sibility of  a  teacher,  or  the  importance  of  mingling  reli- 
gious instructions  with  literary,  and  performing  every 
thing  with  the  savor  of  the  gospel.  Confident  I  am,  that 
the  things  which  have  happened  unto  you,  will  conduce  to 
the  furtherance  of  the  gospel.  Take  courage,  then,  to  go 
forward  in  the  strength  of  the  Almighty.  Let  your  lamp 
be  ever  trimmed  and  burning.  Take  to  yourself  the  whole 
armor  of  God.  Be  steadfast,  unmoveable,  always  abound- 
ing in  the  work  of  the  Lord  ;  and  your  labor  shall  not  be 
in  vain  in  the  Lord  ;  your  work  shall  be  rewarded. 

I  have  two  requests  to  make  to  you,  both  of  which  I 
hope  you  will  find  it  convenient  to  comply  with.  One  is, 
that,  in  case  you  should  be  driven  from  your  present  sta- 
tion, you  would  inform  me,  before  giving  any  encourage- 
ment to  engage  elsewhere.  The  other  is,  that  you  would 
devote  the  ensuing  winter  to  the  pen — to  writing  the  re- 


308  PRINCIPLES    OF 

eult  of  your  experience  and  speculations  upon  teaching 
and  conducting  a  school.  If  you  should  never  live  to 
teach  more,  it  will  form  the  most  valuable  legacy  you  can 
leave  to  your  friends.  If  you  should  survive  many  years, 
which  I  pray  and  hope  may  be  the  case,  it  will  be  the 
best  preparative  for  greater  usefulness  in  time  to  come. 
This  is  the  dilemma,  which,  I  trust,  you  will  prayerfully 
consider. 

Wethers  field,  Nov.  22,  1826. 

My  dear  Brother  W. — It  is  my  intention,  if  God 
should  spare  my  life  a  kxv  years  longer,  to  make  (not 
print)  a  book  for  the  use  of  posterity.  I  wish  to  record 
for  their  perusal  the  most  important  facts,  which  I  know 
and  can  learn  respecting  my  ancestors  and  near  relatives. 
Of  such  as  are  dead,  I  shall  wish  for  all  the  aid  which  my 
friends  can  give  me. 

Wethersfield,  Dec.  3,  182G. 

My  dear  Son  L. — You  know  I  wish  you  to  be  as 
economical  as  possible  ;  not  so  much  for  the  sake  of  sav- 
ing a  few  dollars  or  a  few  cents  now,  as  to  form  a  habit 
that  may  enable  you  to  live  comfortably  and  contentedly 
upon  a  very  small  income,  or  to  give  away  almost  the 
whole  of  a  large  one.  Every  dollar  you  save  from  what 
are  generally  considered  necessary  expenses,  I  consider 
worth  eleven  dollars,  that  is,  one  to  me,  and  ten  to  you. 
Still  it  would  be  inverted  economy  that  should  injure  your 
health  or  your  education. 

Are  you  not  suffering  for  want  of  an  outside  garment. 
Get  such  a  one,  as  is  cheap,  comfortable,  decent,  and 
durable. 

I  hope  you  will  not  read  any  more  history  without 
maps  to  consult  as  you  proceed. 

Here,  as  in  many  other  passages  of  my  brother's  letters, 
we  have  a  clue  to  his  principles  of  religious  economy 
in  the  use  of  property  ;  and  all  go  to  show  most  clearly 
the  justice  of  the  remarks  on  this  topic,  in  Professor 
Peck's  communication.  The  fundamental  principle,  was 
that  maintained  in  his  missionary  sermon — "  let  nothing 
be  lost."  What  is  wasted  on  our  lusts  or  our  vanity,  is 
even  tcorse  than  lost.  Whether  we  eat,  or  drink,  or  clothe 
ourselves,  or  adorn  our  persons,  or  furnish  or  decorate 


CHRISTIAN    ECONOMY.  309 

our  dwellings,  all  is  to  be  done  to  the  glory  of  God.  And 
nothing  is  to  be  done  in  any  of  these  ways,  which  we  do 
not  conscientiously  believe  to  be  to  God's  glory  ;  or  upon 
which  we  cannot  ask  his  blessing;  or  for  which  we  can- 
not cheerfully  give  an  account  at  the  close  of  our  steward- 
ship. On  this  principle,  he  appeared  very  steadily  to 
regulate  his  expenditures,  as  well  as  his  efforts  for  pro- 
curing property.  He  wished  to  do  all  possible  good  in 
this,  as  in  higher  departments  of  christian  action — to  be 
faithful  in  that  which  is  least,  no  less  than  in  the  true 
riches.  Were  I,  however,  called  upon  to  mention  the 
two  particulars  in  which  I  should  most  fear  that  he  was 
in  some  practical  error,  I  should  say,  on  the  one  hand, 
that,  while  always  neat  in  his  appearance,  yet,  perhaps, 
he  paid  too  little  attention  to  dress,  and  to  ornament  gen- 
erally, for  the  highest  usefulness  in  his  station  ;  and  on 
the  other  hand,  that  he  sometimes  purchased  books  which 
he  did  not  strictly  need.  But  both  of  these  are  points 
in  which  he  felt  that  christians  are  bound  to  afford  a 
striking  example  in  order  to  rectify  a  misguided  world 
that  seeks  to  adorn  the  perishing  body,  while  it  neglects 
the  furniture  and  the  salvation  of  the  immortal  spirit, — 
a  world  which  is  as  vain  in  the  one  as  it  is  penurious  in 
the  other.  I  cannot,  indeed,  suppose  him  perfect  in  these 
matters,  either  in  judgment  or  in  heart.  Still,  in  this 
duty  of  christian  economy,  and  also  in  the  kindred  duty  of 
strict  integrity  in  all  worldly  transactions,  I  should  ns  soon 
venture  myself  to  stand  in  his  lot,  at  the  final  tribunal,  as 
in  that  of  any  other  man  with  whom  I  have  been  acquaint- 
ed.— Alas,  the  account  for  which  many  are  most  thought- 
lessly preparing! 

The  letter  which  is  to  follow,  is  on  the  study  of  lan- 
guages. It  is  addressed  to  Dr.  Humphrey,  President  of 
Amherst  College,  where  my  brother  had  recently  sent  his 
son.  I  believe  he  had  before  addressed  an  elaborate  let- 
ter to  him  on  the  study  of  the  learned  languages,  which 
has  not  corne  to  my  hand.  Hence  we  have  here  but  brief 
hints  to  some  of  his  arguments  against  the  study,  as  a 
general  and  extensive  requisition  in  the  colleges.  I  re- 
gret that  I  have  not  his  arguments  at  full  length  ;  as  I 
am  willing  he  should  speak  for  himself,  in  this  memoir, 
on  every  important  subject,  just  as  he  would  if  now  a>ive, 
though  my  own  opinion  may  differ  from  his,  as  it  does  iu 


310  ON    THE    STUDY 

the  present  case,  in  some  particulars. — The  pamphlet  to 
which  lie  alludes,  I  suppose  to  be  one  on  the  course  of 
study  in  Amherst  College. 

\Y ether sjield,  Jan.  24,  1827. 

My  dear  Brother, — For  yourself  and  for  your  good 
brother  H.  you  will  accept  my  thanks  for  the  pamphlet  I 
have  recently  received  from  his  hand.  I  have  found  it 
all  exceedingly  interesting,  and  most  of  its  parts  highly 
gratifying.  It  manifests  an  ardor,  decision,  and  faithful- 
ness in  the  cause  of  education,  which  I  cannot  but  admire, 
especially  in  those  whom  I  so  much  respect  and  love. 
"  Though  shadows,  clouds,  and  darkness  are  still  upon 
it,  we  have  reason  for  the  most  lively  and  devout  thanks- 
giving, that  the  shadows  are  fleeing  away,  the  clouds  dis- 
persing, the  darkness  retiring,  and  the  prospects  bright- 
ening." 

I  am  highly  pleased  that  you  and  your  learned  asso- 
ciates are  proclaiming  to  the  world,  that  you  do  not  con- 
sider an  extensive  acquaintance  with  the  learned  lan- 
guages, an  essi  ntial  part  of  a  thorough  and  useful  educa- 
tion— that  with  a  very  limited  knowledge  of  these,  young 
gentlemen  may  be  deserving  of  college  honors  and  high 
literary  consideration.  Surely  the  necromancy  of  the 
dead  languages,  that  has  so  long  darkened  and  disgraced 
the  high  places  of  science  and  literature,  is  losing  its 
charm.  Thousands  besides  myself  rejoice  in  the  ap- 
proaching fall  of  the  Roman  and  Grecian  tyrants,  who  for 
ages  have  held  their  dark  and  gloomy  reign  in  colleges 
and  halls.  The  day  of  their  deposition  we  hail  as  a  jubi- 
lee to  christian  literature.  We  may  rejoice  in  their  ex- 
pulsion, even  though  their  immediate  successors  should 
be  more  atrocious  murderers  of  time  than  they.  The 
reign  of  such  successors  must  be  short.  Soon  He  will 
come  whose  right  it  is  to  reign ;  and  then  Holiness  to  the 
Lord  will  be  inscribed  upon  every  study  and  upon  every 
book  ;  and  none  will  sigh  for  the  filth  or  the  wild  jumble 
of  Horace,  or  the  useless  narrative  of  Xenophon. 

I  need  not,  indeed  I  cannot  express  to  you  how  much 
I  am  gratified  with  the  prospect  of  your  instructing  your 
pupils  in  the  wonders  that  God  has  wrought  for  us  and 
for  our  fathers,  both  in  this  country  and  in  that  from  which 
they  fled. 


OF    LANGUAGES.  311 

More  cheering  still  is  the  proposed  "  department,  de- 
voted to  the  science  and  art  of  teaching."  I  confidently 
hope  and  believe,  that  the  benefit  of  this  will  be  much 
every  way.  It  will  tend  to  correct,  to  improve,  to  elevate, 
and,  1  trust,  to  sanctify,  not  only  your  college  but  all  col- 
leges— and  indeed,  the  whole  world.  In  these  things  I 
rejoice  and  must  ever  rejoice. 

But,  agreeably  to  your  anticipation,  your  proposed  im- 
provements do  not  quite  correspond  with  my  wishes ;  nor 
indeed,  with  my  hopes.  And  I  am  not  without  my  fears 
that  some  of  your  proposed  alterations,  will  be  found  the 
reverse  of  improvement.  I  refer  particularly  to  the  French 
and  Spanish  languages. 

That  some  of  our  citizens  should  be  well  acquainted 
with  one  or  both  of  these,  there  can  be  no  question.  But 
who?  Would  they  on  the  whole,  be  of  any  substantial  util- 
ity to  me  ? — to  you  ? — to  your  associates — to  our  ministers, 
physicians,  or  attorneys,  to  our  farmers,  mechanics,  or 
merchants?  None,  absolutely  none ;  except,  perhaps,  to 
one  merchant  in  a  hundred.  To  most  of  us,  I  do  believe, 
they  would  be  worse  than  nought — a  mere  negative  quan- 
tity. At  least,  I  am  confident  this  would  be  the  case 
with  myself.  I  should  be  attending  to  them  and  reflect- 
ing upon  them,  when  otherwise  I  might  be  much  better 
employed.  They  would  be  injurious  to  mental  improve- 
ment, as  the  diversity  of  my  pursuits  is  already  too  great. 
They  would  conduce  to  mental  imbecility  by  still  more 
distracting  a  mind  already  too  much  distracted.  They 
would  leave  still  less  the  little  (alas!  too  little)  time  that 
I  can  now  devote  to  studying  the  bible.  Though  they 
might  be  occasionally  useful,  they  would,  no  doubt,  pro- 
duce an  excess  of  evil,  perhaps  ten  fold.  To  my  beloved 
and  much  respected  pastor,  I  believe,  they  would  be 
more  injurious  than  to  myself;  simply  because  his  influ- 
ence is  greater  and  more  important  than  mine.  Nor  do 
I  believe  they  would,  on  the  whole,  be  useful  to  a  single 
pastor  in  New  England  ;  and  the  same  remark  may,  un- 
questionably, apply  to  almost  all  our  citizens.  Who  then 
among  us  are  called  to  study  French  and  Spanish  ?  I 
answer,  those  who  have  a  rational  prospect  of  settling 
where  they  cannot  converse  with  their  neighbors  in  any 
other  language ;  and  perhaps  in  the  whole  country,  forty 
or  fifty  more  for  particular  objects.     I  am  certainly  desir- 


312  ON    THE    STUDY 

ous  of  affording  all  possible  aid  to  our  young  sister  re- 
publics in  the  south.  We  are  called  to  rejoice  in  their 
emancipation  and  tremble  for  their  danger,  and  pray  that 
they  may  be  saved  from  destruction.  I  am  perfectly  will- 
ing that  a  few  hundred  of  our  best  young  men  should 
study  Spanish  and  exert  their  utmost  efforts  to  rescue  and 
raise  these  important  plants  of  liberty.  But  probably,  not 
the  thirtieth  part  of  your  pupils  will  think  seriously  of 
such  achievements,  while  under  your  care.  But  even  if 
it  were  decided  that  every  one  of  them  should  become 
South  American  patriots,  legislators,  teachers,  or  mission- 
aries, I  should  very  much  doubt  the  expediency  of  attend- 
ing to  the  Spanish  language  within  your  walls.  They 
might  probably  employ  their  time  quite  as  profitably  under 
your  care,  in  studying  our  history,  our  political  institutions, 
our  religion,  the  philosophy  of  mind,  the  science  of  teach- 
ing, etc.  I  see  not,  then,  that  the  study  of  Spanish  is 
likely  to  be  on  the  whole  desirable  for  any  of  your  pupils, 
upon  any  supposition.  It  might  doubtless  be  learned  as 
well,  and  in  much  less  time,  after  closing  their  collegiate 
course.  To  twenty-nine  in  thirty,  the  time  spent  in  study- 
ing it  would  be  entirely  lost.  Shall  twenty-nine  incon- 
siderate youths  be  encouraged  to  pay  such  an  enormous 
tax  for  the  benefit — no !  not  for  the  real  benefit  of  a 
single  individual  ?  Nor  am  I  more  favorably  disposed  to 
the  study  of  French.  I  know  well  the  arguments  that  are 
often  urged  in  favor  of  learning  this  language.  Again 
and  again,  I  have  endeavored  to  weigh  them  in  the  bal- 
ance of  the  sanctuary,  and  always  found  them  wanting. 
Confident  1  am,  if  you  admit  these  strangers  as  members 
of  your  college,  you  will  soon  feel  constrained  to  expel 
them. 

And  now,  it  has  again  become  a  serious  and  painful 
question  with  me,  What  shall  I  do  with  my  son  ?  I  have 
never  regretted  his  becoming  a  member  of  your  literary 
family.  With  the  views  and  feelings  which  I  delight  to 
cherish  towards  your  institution,  how  can  I  think  of  re- 
moving him  1  And  yet,  how  can  I  consent  to  his  wasting 
a  great  part  of  his  time,  quarter  after  quarter,  upon  French 
and  Spanish?  How  can  I  think  of  paying  money  for 
that  which  will  not  be  likely  to  profit?  paying  money  for 
encumbering  his  memory  with  literary  baggage,  not  worth 
the  room  it  must  occupy?     Scarcely  ever   was  I  reduced 


THE    LANGUAGES. 


313 


to  a  dilemma  so  trying  and  painful.  I  know  you  would 
delight  to  relieve  me  if  possible.  What  can  I  consistent- 
ly do  ?  If  I  take  my  son  from  Amherst,  where  can  I  send 
him  ?  to  Hartford  ? — to  Middletown  1 — to  Cambridge  ? — 
to  Bangor? — to  Waterville? — to  an  institution  in  Mass. 
yet  in  embryo?  And  what  shall  I  do  with  my  other 
sons?  Must  I  renounce  the  thought  of  giving  them  an 
education  ?  Cannot  your  new  course  receive  some  further 
modification,  so  as  in  some  measure  to  meet  my  views 
and  the  views  of  perhaps  half  of  your  more  serious  pat- 
rons? If  there  must  be  a  certain  amount  of  attention  to 
foreign  language,  what  if  you  should  substitute  a  thorough 
review  of  the  Greek  Testament  and  the  study  of  the  Sep- 
tuagint  for  French  and  Spanish?  Other  important  altera- 
tions I  should  exceedingly  desire,  but  this  would  be  so 
far  satisfactory  that  I  should  not  think  of  removing  my 
son.  Most  respectfully,  yours, 

J.  Emerson. 
P.  S.  Perhaps  it  is  my  duty  to  state,  that  your  obser- 
vation respecting  the  popularity  of  the  learned  languages, 
has  been  exceedingly  different  from  mine.  It  has  been 
one  of  my  principal  subjects  of  my  inquiry  for  about  twenty 
years;  and  for  several  years,  I  have  scarcely  found  a  per- 
son capable  of  judging,  who  was  not  decidedly  opposed 
to  the  usual  college  course  in  relation  to  Latin  and 
Greek.  J.  E. 

It  is  not  to  be  understood,  that  my  brother  would  ex- 
clude the  learned  languages  from  our  colleges.  He  would 
have  all  educated  persons,  both  male  and  female,  to 
know  something  of  Latin,  if  possible.  But  he  would  not 
have  them  learn  it  from  heathen  writers  to  much  extent,  if 
at  all,  except  in  the  few  cases  of  very  accomplished  classi- 
cal scholars,  who  should  become  such  for  specific  purposes. 
In  these  respects,  his  views  were  doubtless  much  changed 
from  what  they  were  while  in  college  or  engaged  in  fitting 
young  men  for  college.  The  extensive  course  he  gave 
the  two  young  men  who  were  with  him  at  Dr.  Emmons's, 
will  readily  occur  to  the  reader. — Instead  of  excluding 
Greek,  he  would  have  at  least  all  who  are  to  be  minis- 
ters, study  it  much  more  extensively  than  is  the  general 
fact;  but  indifferent  authors. — But  we  shall  hear  more 
from  him  on  this  subject,  under  date  of  Dec.  30,  1830. 
27 


314  DEATH    OF 

As  it  respects  French  and  Spanish,  no  explanations  are 
needed. — He  regarded  it  as  miserable  folly  indeed,  for 
young  ladies  to  waste  their  time  on  these  languages. 

Wethersfield,  April  4,  1827. 
My  dear  Brother  W. — My  health  has  been  very 
feeble  the  winter  past.  I  have  been  confined  to  the  house 
almost  the  whole  of  the  time.  I  hope  the  warm  weather 
will  prove  favorable  ;  but  dare  not  natter  myself,  that  I 
shall  survive  many  winters  more.  May  we  make  it  our 
great  business  to  prepare  to  enjoy  each  other's  society  in 
a  better  world,  where  the  inhabitants  shall  not  say,  "  I 
am  sick." 


TO    DEA.    H.    ON    THE    DEATH    OF    MRS.    JUDSON. 

Wethersfield,  April  22,  1827. 

Beloved  Parents, — We  received  the  solemn  tidings 
yesterday.  Our  dear,  dear  Ann  has  completed  her  pil- 
grimage, ceased  from  her  wanderings,  and  gone  to  her 
long  home.  Though  removed  far  from  us,  and  withdrawn 
from  earth,  she  is  not  removed  from  our  affections.  She 
still  lives  in  our  hearts.  More  fondly  than  ever,  does  re- 
collection cherish  her  smiling  image.  Though  she  may 
be  removed  "  ten  thousand  leagues  beyond  the  sun,"  does 
she  not  seem  actually  nearer,  than  when  she  was  the  other 
side  of  the  world  1  She  is  as  near  us  now,  as  she  would 
have  been,  had  she  died  in  our  fond  embraces — as  near  to 
us,  as  she  would  have  been,  had  we  actually  seen  her 
borne  upward  in  a  chariot  of  fire.  How  consoling,  how 
animating  to  follow  her  with  an  eye  of  faith — to  behold 
her  attended  by  radiant  seraphs,  now  approaching  the 
pearly  gate,  now  walking  the  golden  street,  now  approach- 
ing the  glorious  Immanuel,  and  now  seated  amid  admiring 
and  shouting  millions,  at  the  foot  of  the  Lamb.  And  now 
she  raises  her  celestial  voice,  tuned  by  almighty  grace  to 
the  music  of  heaven,  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  holy 
choir,  Unto  him  that  loved  us  and  washed  us  from  our 
sins  in  his  own  blood,  and  hath  made  us  kings  and  priests 
unto  God  and  his  Father  ;  to  him  be  glory  and  dominion 
forever  and  ever.  Amen.  Dear  sainted  spirit !  how  glo- 
rious, how  amazing  is  thy  change  !  how  different  is  thi6 
from  the   discord  of  earth — from  the  sighs  and  groans  of 


MRS.    JUDSON. 


315 


the  prisoner,  and  the  clanking  of  his  chains.  Happy  soul ! 
after  so  many  toils,  so  many  difficulties,  so  many  perils,  so 
many  journeyings,  so  many  fears,  so  many  distresses,  so 
many  pangs,  how  sweet  is  thy  rest,  how  enrapturing  is  thy 
repose  !  The  days  of  thy  mourning  are  forever  ended. 
Thy  heavenly  day  has  commenced  ;  a  day  that  no  night 
shall  succeed,  no  cloud  shall  dim,  no  storm  disturb  ;  a  day, 
far  above  the  power  of  mortal  imagination  to  conceive  ;  a 
day,  that  shall  continue  to  brighten  and  blaze  forth  with 
new  radiance,  long  as  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  shall 
continue  to  shine,  or  immortality  endure. 

But  ah  !  the  mourning,  solitary  husband  !  What  heart 
but  bleeds  at  his  loss.  Alas,  my  Brother,  bereaved  of 
such  a  friend,  such  a  helper,  such  a  dearer  self,  how  dim, 
dark,  and  unlovely  to  your  eye  is  earth,  and  wealth  and 
fame  and  every  thing  but  holiness  and  Christ  and  heaven. 

Beloved  Father  and  Mother,  your  cup  of  grief,  though 
deep  and  large,  is  not  unmingled.  At  this  very  moment, 
dark,  mysterious  and  trying  as  it  is,  you  have  perhaps 
even  more  cause  to  sing  of  mercy  than  of  judgment.  To 
be  the  parents  of  such  a  child — to  be  permitted  to  give 
back  to  the  Redeemer  a  daughter  so  bright,  so  improved, 
so  loving,  so  beloved,  so  spiritually  engaged,  so  useful,  and 
now,  as  we  trust,  exalted  to  such  a  height  in  glory — what 
earthly  honor  can  be  compared  to  this  ?  For  the  sake  of 
sucli  a  daughter — for  the  sake  of  what  she  has  done,  and 
what  by  the  influence  of  her  past  example  and  writings 
and  prayers,  she  will  yet  do,  you  might  well  be  will- 
ing to  endure  all  the  evils  of  this  evil  world,  that  you 
have  yet  felt,  and  all  that  are  before  you.  Thrice  happy 
Parents !  while  more  than  twice  ten  thousand  mourners 
are  mingling  their  cordial  sympathies  and  prayers  with 
yours,  their  hearts  can  hardly  fail  to  call  you  blessed. 
Perhaps  no  American  female  was  ever  more  highly  hon- 
ored with  christian  affection  and  christian  esteem,  than 
sister  Judson.  Her  undissembling  mourners  are  not  con- 
fined to  one  religious  denomination,  nor  two ;  nor  are  they 
confined  to  any  country  or  nation.  They  are  to  be  found 
in  the  four  quarters  of  the  earth,  in  the  islands  of  the  seas, 
and  on  the  mighty  deep.  O  that  the  mantle  of  your 
youngest  daughter,  may  rest  upon  each  of  your  other  chil- 
dren and  upon  your  grand  children. 


316 


DIDACTICS. 


TO    JMISS    GRANT. 


Wethersfidd,  May  27,  1827. 

My  health  was  so  very  low  last  winter,  that  I  almost 
despaired  of  life.  I  have  therefore  done  nothing  more  to 
my  "  Useful  Penman."  This  is  the  reason,  that  I  have 
not  offered  it  for  sale  in  Boston. 

I  rejoice  exceedingly  in  the  noble  experiment  you  are 
trying.  I  have  no  doubt,  that  it  will  be  of  great  utility, 
not  only  to  those  who  may  be  favored  with  your  personal 
tuition,  but  to  thousands  more,  whom  you  will  never  see 
in  the  flesh.  "  Attempt  great  things,  and  do  great  things." 
I  am  extremely  dissatisfied  with  almost  every  thing  I  read 
upon  education.  "  Unfold  the  faculties,  unfold  the  facul- 
ties, unfold  the  faculties"  is  the  universal  and  incessant 
cry.  Though  I  certainly  consider  this  as  an  object  of 
vast  importance,  aud  though  it  is  possible  that  I  may  say 
and  do  as  much  to  improve  the  mind,  as  some  of  our  brother 
teachers,  yet  God  forbid,  that  I  should  consider  this  as 
the  sole  or  chief  duty,  which  we  owe  our  pupils.  To 
aid  them  in  forming  the  most  useful  habits,  to  store  their 
minds  with  the  treasures  of  knowledge,  to  train  them  up 
in  the  way  they  should  go,  to  lead  them  to  Jesus,  and 
guide  them  to  heaven,  is  certainly  more  important  than 
mere  cultivation  of  intellect.  I  believe,  however,  it  is 
the  way  to  cultivate  the  intellect  in  the  best  manner.  But, 
you  know,  it  is  not  generally  so  considered.  In  due  time 
the  wise  shall  understand. 

We  have  over  eighty  pupils — generally  speaking,  very 
promising  ;  and  I  cannot  but  hope,  we  are  making  some 
improvements  in  the  art  of  teaching — especially  in  teach- 
ing the  bible. 

When  this  art  of  teaching,  of  which  my  brother  so  fre- 
quently speaks,  shall  itself  be  regularly  taught  in  colleges 
and  other  seminaries,  there  will  be  still  greater  need  than 
at  present,  of  a  few  concise  terms,  of  frequent  application 
in  speaking  of  this  department.  The  chief  one  is  a  name 
for  the  art  itself,  which,  I  may  venture  to  say,  will  be  di- 
dactics, instead  of  the  uncouth  and  obnoxious  term, 
pedagogics.  We  shall  also  need  to  use  the  adjective  di- 
dactic, in  a  new  application,  as  I  have  once  ventured  to 


PUBLICATIONS,    ETC.  317 

do  in  this  work.  Now,  should  these  needful  terms  speedily 
come  into  use,  who  can  tell  but  they  would  hasten  the 
improvement  of  the  science  itself.  Let  us,  then,  use  these 
terms,  as  we  may  have  occasion,  paying  our  fine,  in  the 
mean  time,  to  the  critics,  till  they  shall  see  fit  to  refund  it, 
with  interest,  for  the  good  thus  done. 

TO    THE    SAME. 

Wethers  field,  June  28,  1827. 

Most  sincerely  can  I  condole  with  you  and  your  friends, 
under  your  present  indisposition.  I  cannot  but  think  that 
my  lameness  has  been  instrumental  of  prolonging  my 
days.  It  may  be  that  yours  is  designed  for  the  same  end. 
1  am  exceedingly  desirous  that  you  should  live  to  complete 
your  present  plan,  and  publish  the  result.  Were  I  young 
and  vigorous,  I  should  undoubtedly  adopt  the  monitorial 
system  in  a  much  greater  degree  than  I  am  now  able  to 
do. 

TO    THE    SAME. 

Wethersjeld,  Jan.  5,  1828. 

I  have  a  heart  to  feel  for  you  most  deeply,  and,  I  hope, 
to  pray  for  you  ;  but,  alas,  I  have  no  head  to  advise  you. 
I  must  leave  you  to  your  covenant  God,  to  the  counsel  of 
your  friends,  and  to  that  wisdom  which  is  profitable  to  di- 
rect. It  may,  perhaps,  be  sufficient  to  suggest  to  your 
mind  one  consolation  and  two  directions,  all  three  divine. 
"  Blessed  are  they  that  are  persecuted  for  righteousness' 
sake."  "  Fear  not;  only  believe."  Let  me  beg  of  you  to 
attend  to  your  feeble  health.  I  trust  the  Lord  has  more 
work  for  you  to  do  ;  but  whether  at  Derry,  or  elsewhere, 
is  of  little  importance. 

I  am  writing  and  printing  Questions  to  Goodrich's  His- 
tory of  the  United  States,  of  which  I  send  you  what  are 
printed.  I  expect  to  prefix  eight  pages,  containing  title 
page,  directions,  etc.  The  whole  work  will  probably 
make  nearly  one  hundred  pages,  and  I  hope  will  be  fin- 
ished by  May. 

You  will  perceive  that  I  wish  to  add  an  important  sup- 
plement to  the  early  part  of  our  history,  and,  impossible,  to 
infuse  into  the  tender  mind,  something  of  the  spirit  of  pu- 
ritanism.     In  the  religious  enterprise  of  our  pilgrim  fath- 
27* 


318  GRAMMAR,   ETC 

ers,  I  rejoice,  and  trust  I  shall  continue  to  rejoice  more 
and  more. 

Do  let  me  know  the  state  of  your  health.  Mine,  I  hope, 
is  considerably  improved,  though  I  am  almost  wholly  con- 
fined to  the  house.  I  can  study  about  seven  or  eight  hours 
a  day,  with  great  satisfaction. 

Whelpley's  Compend  and  the  Questions  are  soon  to  be 
stereotyped.  I  wish  to  make  all  possible  corrections.  I 
need  not  attempt  to  tell  you  how  grateful  I  shall  feel  for 
any  hints  upon  the  subject. 

TO    THE    SAME. 

Wether sfield,  Jan.  21,  1828. 

I  feel  by  no  means  decided  with  regard  to  the  place 
where  duty  calls  you  to  labor.  I  am  free  to  say ,  however,  that 
if  you  could  unite  with  Miss  H.  and  Miss  L.  in  one  school, 
where  two  hundred  young  ladies  could  be  well  accommcH 
dated  with  board  and  lecture  rooms,  without  the  danger  of 
having  their  attention  interrupted  by  the  other  sex,  your 
seminary  would  unquestionably  be  more  useful  than  any 
other  institution  for  females  in  this  country  ;  and,  I  trust, 
more  popular.  In  case  of  such  a  coalition,  too,  I  should 
hope  each  of  you  would  find  time  to  instruct  the  fraternity, 
or  rather  sisterhood  of  teachers,  from  the  press.  From 
each  of  your  pens,  I  believe,  a  debt  is  due  to  the  public, 
which,  if  not  discharged,  may  be  a  distressing  load  upon 
the  conscience  in  the  hour  of  death.  One  book,  that  I 
wish  one  of  you  to  write,  is  a  grammar — a  grammar  di- 
vested of  fine-spun,  conjectural  theories  and  false  defini- 
tions— a  grammar  based  wholly  upon  facts,  and  conducive 
to  utility.  I  have  been  more  troubled  upon  this  subject  of 
late  than  ever  before.  I  know  of  no  printed  definition  of 
a  verb,  that  appears  to  have  even  the  semblance  of  correct- 
ness. No  verb  signifies  to  do,  or  to  be,  or  to  suffer,  but  an 
infinitive  ;  and  many  an  infinitive  signifies  neither  of  these. 
Action,  passion,  and  existence,  may  be  signified  as  clearly 
by  nouns,  adjectives,  and  adverbs,  as  by  verbs.  Cardeli's 
definition  or  assertion,  that  every  verb  expresses  an  action 
terminating  upon  an  object,  and  Sherman's,  that  every 
verb  asserts  something,  bring  forcibly  to  my  mind  a  favor- 
ite expression,  that  1  have  repeatedly  heard  from  an  old 


POETIC   READER,    ETC.  319 

cra^zy  man,  '  infinitely  ridiculous.'     Home  Tooke's  dish 

of  "  particles,"  so   finely  served  up  by  W ,  is  scarcely 

more  savory.     In  relation  to  such  provision,  I  must  be  an 
incurable  dyspeptic. 

This  morning  I  wrote  the  following  definition  :  "  A 
verb  is  a  word  that  asserts,  inquires,  commands,  entreats, 
supposes,  or  conjoins  ;  and  is  generally  varied  to  indicate 
number,  person,  mode,  and  time."  I  meant  it  to  exclude 
the  infinitive  mode,  which  I  would  either  consider  a  parti- 
ciple, or  a  distinct  part  of  speech.  I  am  by  no  means  sat- 
isfied, however,  with  my  own  definition  ;  though  I  think  it 
much  better  than  has  yet  been  printed.  Will  you  attempt 
to  mend  it,  or  make  another  I 

WethersMd,  March  16,  1828. 

I  send  you  a  copy  of  my  Poetic  Reader,  which,  I  think, 
contains  almost  all  that  is  excellent  in  the  Traveller,  De- 
serted Village,  Task,  Seasons,  and  perhaps  five  times  as 
much  more  of  other  productions,  equally  excellent.  If 
there  is  an  indifferent  piece  in  the  whole,  I  should  be  glad 
to  have  it  mentioned.  I  hope  you  will  find  it  consistent  to 
use  it  in  your  instructions. 

The  best  grammar  for  you  and  me,  is  undoubtedly 
Murray's ;  for  most  others,  probably  Ingersoll's.  The 
theories  of  Webster,  (Home  Tooke,)  Cardell,  and  Sher- 
man, I  consider  wild,  wilder,  wildest.  I  have  examined 
them  closely. 

The  object  of  my  brother's  work,  above  mentioned,  will 
be  shown  by  the  title  page  :  "  The  Poetic  Reader,  con- 
taining selections  from  the  most  approved  authors,  design- 
ed for  Exercises  in  Reading,  Singing,  Parsing,  Herme- 
neutics,  Rhetoric,  and  Punctuation  ;  to  which  are  prefixed 
Directions  for  Reading."  The  introduction  and  direc- 
tions for  reading,  were  not  finished,  and  the  whole  work 
finally  published,  till  18:32.  It  contains  about  one  hun- 
dred pages,  with  double  columns,  and  was  the  result  of 
great  labor  and  much  reflection.  It  was  designed  partic- 
ularly for  such  schools  as  the  one  he  was  teaching,  but 
will  be  found  useful  for  more  private  study  and  practice  in 
the  art  of  reading. 

In  the  course  of  this  year,  (probably  in  the  early  part 
of  it,)  he  published  his  "  Letter  to  a  Class  of  Youncr  La- 


320  LETTER    ON    THE    HIST.    OF    U.    S. 

dies,  upon  the  study  of  the  History  of  the  United  States.'1 
The  occasion  of  this  publication,  will  be  seen  from  the 
following  request  by  his  pupils,  the  previous  autumn.  I 
insert  the  request  entire,  partly  for  the  purpose  of  showing 
the  spirit  of  patriotism  which  pervaded  his  scholars,  and 
which  it  was  no  small  part  of  his  object  to  infuse  into 
every  heart. 

"Beloved  and  Respected  Sir; — The  young  ladies  of 
the  Senior  Class,  feeling  that  in  a  few  days,  they  shall  be 
deprived  of  your  instructions,  and  desirous  of  pursuing  still 
farther  tiie  course  commenced  in  your  seminary,  respect- 
fully request  your  advice  relative  to  a  choice  of  such 
books,  as  are  most  calculated  to  facilitate  their  design. 

"Realizing,  in  some  degree,  the  blessings  they  enjoy 
as  citizens  of  this  highly  favored  land,  and  deeply  inter- 
ested in  the  relation  of  events  which,  by  the  blessing  of  God, 
procured  its  independence,  they  make  their  request  with 
particular  reference  to  the  history  of  their  own  country. 

"In  the  choice  of  books  which  claim  their  first  atten- 
tion, are  most  conducive  to  their  improvement,  and  would 
constitute  a  profitable  selection  for  a  young  lady's  library, 
they  feel  that  your  advice  is  highly  desirable  and  will  be 
of  lasting  advantage  to  them  when  they  have  finished  their 
pupilage. 

•'  They  beg  leave,  at  this  time,  to  express  their  grateful 
acknowledgments  to  you  for  the  kind  instructions  they 
have  received  while  members  of  your  seminary. 

"  Be  pleased,   Sir,  to  accept  their  best  wishes   for  the 
prosperity  of  your  institution,  and  for  your  happiness  here 
and  hereafter.     Respectfully  and  affectionately  yours, 
M —  B —  in  behalf  of  the  class." 

Wethcrsfisld,   Oct.  20,  1827. 

In  answer  to  this  request,  he  "devoted  three  months  of 
vigorous  application."  The  work,  though  consisting  of 
only  30  pages,  embodies  much  historical  information,  in 
connection  with  criticisms  and  directions,  in  respect  to 
most  if  not  all  of  the  historical  works  on  our  country, 
which  are  of  importance  to  a  young  person  either  to  pos- 
sess or  to  read.  He  has  also  contrived  to  throw  an  inter- 
est into  these  pages,  which  will  ensure  the  perusal  by  all 
who  begin  to  read  them.     Few  men  would  have  had  the 


BIRTH    AND    DEATH    OP    A    CHILD.  321 

patience  to  bestow  a  whole  winter's  work  on  so  small  a 
number  of  pages.  Half  the  time  would  doubtless  have 
produced  twice  the  number. 

Among  my  brother's  papers,  I  find  the  sketch  of  an 
address  which  he  was  now  requested  to  deliver  on  the 
fourth  of  July  in  this  year.  Our  puritan  ancestors,  was 
the  theme  ; — and  truly  it  was  the  right  one  for  him.  On 
this  theme,  his  soul  was  always  on  fire.  It  was  with  a 
quenchless,  and  enlightened,  and  religious  patriotism,  that 
he  was  continually  inculcating,  in  public,  in  his  school, 
and  in  private,  the  study  of  the  history  of  those  most  won- 
derful men  ; — men  whom  we  should  gratefully  revere,  un- 
der God,  as  having  done  more  for  the  salvation  of  civil  and 
religious  liberty,  and  for  the  ultimate  salvation  of  the 
world,  than  any  other  uninspired  men  that  have  ever 
lived. 

TO    MISS    GRANT. 

Wethersfield,  July  10,  1828. 

My  health  has  on  the  whole  been  better  the  preceding 
year  than  for  several  before ;  and  I  have  been  enabled  to 
pursue  my  business  with  more  pleasure,  and  I  hope  with 
some  improvements.  Our  pupils  the  past  quarter  have 
been  about  90. 

We  have  a  daughter,  now,  in  the  fifth  day  of  her  age, 
small,  plump,  and  promising.  Her  mother  wonders  how  it 
has  come  to  pass,  that  she  should  be  so  "  pretty."  But 
possibly  the  maternal  crystalline  humor  may  have  a  greater 
power  to  magnify  beauty  than  any  thing  else.  O  that  she 
may  be  adorned  with  a  beauty,  infinitely  surpassing  per- 
sonal comeliness. 

"  Beauty  and  youth  ;  in  vain  to  these  we  trust; 
For  youth  and  beauty  shall  be  laid  in  dust." 

Perhaps  my  brother  little  thought,  when  quoting  the 
above  couplet,  that  its  presage  was  so  sadly  applicable  ; 
for  this  lovely  "  beauty"  was  indeed  soon  "laid  in  dust." 

The  following  extracts  will  again  bring  up  the  subject 
of  masonry. 

Wethersjidd,  July  28,  1828. 

My  dear  Brother  R. — Within  a  few  days,  I  have 
been  occupied  in  writing  a  letter  to  the  members  of  the 
Consociation  of  Genesee,  N.  Y.     They  have  denounced 


322  MASONRY. 

me  as  a  mason.  I  have  felt  constrained  in  duty  to  at- 
tempt my  defence,  and  to  deal  with  them  as  offending 
brethren  for  condemning  me  without  a  trial  and  without 
a  crime. 

My  brother  does  not  here  mean,  that  the  consociation 
had  pointed  their  "  resolves"  at  him  as  an  individual. 
A  few  paragraphs  from  the  first  part  of  his  letter,  will 
place  the  matter  in  its  true  light. 

"  Reverend  and  Beloved, — Possibly  I  have  had  the 
honor  of  a  personal  acquaintance  with  some  one  of  your 
number.  If  so,  that  brother  must  be  deeply  grieved,  to 
learn,  that  I  am  a  mason.  Such  brother  will  not  wonder, 
and  surely  none  of  you  will  wonder,  that  I  should  be 
much  grieved  and  distressed  by  your  resolves,  which  late- 
ly appeared  in  the  Boston  Recorder ;  especially  the  first. 
It  is  in  the  following  words : 

"  Resolved,  That  the  Consociation  will  neither  license, 
ordain,  or  instal,  those  who  sustain  any  connection  with 
the  institution  of  masonry,  or  who  will  not  disapprove  and 
renounce  it;  nor  will  we  give  letters  of  recommendation 
in  favor  of  such  persons  to  preach  in  any  of  the  churches 
of  our  connection." 

"  Dear  Brethren,  by  this  resolve,  I  consider  myself 
as  excluded  from  your  pulpits,  and  cut  off  from  your  min- 
isterial fellowship  ;  and  I  should  rejoice  to  learn,  that  I 
might  be  admitted  to  participate  at  the  holy  table  under 
your  ministration.  I  would  willingly  make  a  great  effort, 
to  mingle  in  your  feasts  of  charity.  I  should  hope,  that 
such  a  measure  might  conduce  to  heal  the  incipient 
breach,  which  now  threatens  to  be  more  wide  and  dread- 
ful, than  any  that  has  yet  desolated  the  fields  of  our 
Zion.  Could  I  be  admitted  to  the  privilege,  without  first 
renouncing  the  masonic  fraternity'? 

"Dear  Brethren,  it  struck  me  like  thunder  from  an 
unclouded  sky.  Excommunication  for  my  secret  sins, 
without  a  moment's  warning,  would  have  been  scarcely 
more  surprising." 

This  letter  of  twenty  printed  pages,  he  did  not  publish. 
"A  few  copies,"  as  he  remarks  in  a  note,  "are  printed,  to 
save  the  labor  of  transcription.    It  is  by  no  means  publish- 


MASONRY.  323 

ed,  and  is  merely  a  private  letter.  For  special  reasons, 
it  is  confided  to  a  few  individuals  to  whom  it  is  not  ad- 
dressed." It  was,  however,  soon  after  published  by  some 
of  the  masons  into  whose  hands  it  came ;  and  probably  it 
was  his  expectation  when  writing  it,  that  it  would  be 
published  at  some  time. 

The  following  letter  will  show  more  fully  his  views  and 
feelings  in  undertaking  this  thankless  office. 

TO    DR.    EMMONS. 

Wethersjield,  Ct.  Aug.  2,  1828. 

Most  honored  Friend  and  Father, — Scarcely  any 
house  or  study  is  so  familiar  or  so  dear  to  my  heart,  as 
yours.  They  are  intimately  associated  with  my  most 
valued  improvements — with  my  happiest  jhours.  I  fear  I 
shall  no  more  enjoy  with  you,  "  the  feast  of  reason  and 
the  flow  of  soul,"  except  in  memory,  which  still  loves  to 
linger  there.  But  though  I  cannot  visit  you,  I  must  still 
look  to  you  for  advice  and  counsel,  with  the  same  filial 
confidence  as  thirty  years  ago. 

By  the  printed  letter,  which  I  confide  to  your   faithful 
care,  you  will  perceive,  that  I  have  felt  myself  called  upon 
to  defend  my  character  against  the  attack  of  a  number  of 
my  beloved  and   much  respected  brethren,  and   solemnly 
to  deal  with    them    for   their   unrighteous   denunciation. 
You  will,  perhaps,  be  astonished,  that  such  a  poor,  timid 
spirit,  should  dare  to  do   this.     But  I  felt,  that  necessity 
was  laid  upon  me  ;  and  I  did  not  dare  to  hold  my  peace. 
Perhaps    you  will  think  I  have  misjudged   in  writing,  or 
in  writing  thus.     If  so,  please  to  inform  me.     This  is  one 
of  the  points  upon  which  I  wish  to  consult  you.     If  your 
reproof  should  smite  me,  I  trust   it  will  be  received  as  a 
kindness,  and  may  prove  an  excellent  oil.     What  is  there 
in     my    letter,    that    appears    exceptionable? — especially 
what   false    assumptions;    what    unfounded  conclusions? 
Will    they    relent  ?      Will   they   retract  ?     What    if  they 
should  not?   Can  I  consistently  drop  the  subject?  Should 
I  not  thus  suffer  sin  upon  my  brethren,  and  injury  upon 
myself?     Must  I  again  write  to  them,  as   with   the   blood 
of  my  wounded  heart  ?     If  1  should  write  again  without 
success,  what  then   must  I  do?     Could  I  then  drop  it? 
Or  must  I  tell  it  to  their  churches,  or  to  their  presbytery, 
or  synod  ?     Or  shall  I  publish   it  to  the   world  ?     O  for 


324  MASONRY. 

wisdom  to  direct !  O  for  grace  from  above  !  O  for  the 
advice  of  an  affectionate  father  !  It  is  a  favor  that  I 
have  asked  of  but  one  other  ;  and  that  is  Dr.  Miller  of 
Princeton,  on  account  of  his  standing  in  the  presbyterian 
church  and  his  connection  with  masonry.  Love  to  your 
family.  Most  respectfully  and  gratefully  yours, 

Joseph  Emerson. 

Wethcrsfidd,  Aug.  10,  1823. 

My  very  dear  Brother  R. — I  am  comforted  to  find 
that  you  can  tolerate  my  letter  on  masonry,  and  more 
than  comforted  that  you  can  "  think  that  it  will,  on  the 
whole,  do  good."  You  do  not  seem  to  have  fully  appre- 
ciated my  reasons  and  motives  for  writing  this  letter.  I 
was  about  to  state  them,  but  this  must  be  deferred  till 
we  meet. 

Accordingly,  when  we  met,  he  did  more    fully  explain 
to  me  the  reasons  for  writing  this  "  Letter  to   the  Mem- 
bers of  the  Genesee  Consociation."     He  wished  to  vindi- 
cate his  character  from  the  charge  of  moral  guilt,  and  un- 
fitness for  the  ministry,  which  that  consociation,  in  their 
published  resolves,  had  implied  against  all  "  who  sustain 
any  connexion  with  masonry."     He  wished  especially  to 
leave  on  record  such  a  vindication  of  his  motives  and  con- 
duct, that  his  posterity  would  not  be  ashamed  to  own  him. 
He  wished  also  to  mitigate  the   rising  suspicions  against 
other  brethren  in  the  ministry  and  in  the  churches,  who, 
like  himself,  had   taken  only  three  degrees   in   masonry, 
and  who  were  not  prepared   publicly  to   confess  or  to  re- 
cant.    He  felt  that  there   was  a  spirit  of  violence  and  un- 
christian denunciation,  which  he  was   called  upon  to  re- 
buke.    This  particular,  he  would  doubtless  have  laid  less 
deeply  to  heart,  could  he  then   have  believed  in  the  great 
depreciation  in  the  import  of  the  English  epithets  of  vitu- 
peration, in  certain  regions  of  hot  controversy.     He  was 
reminded    of   this,    at   the    time ;     but  to  little  purpose. 
Honest  and  simple-hearted  man   as  he  was,  he  still  took 
the  coin   at  par ; — and  it  had  well-nigh  ruined  him  ;  for 
no  subject  probably  ever  so   much  distressed  him,  or  so 
deeply  preyed  upon  his   health.     The  reply  of  the  conso- 
ciation finally  showed  him,  as   had  been  predicted,  that 
they  meant,  after  all,  no  terrible  anathema  against  such 


MASONRY. 


325 


men  as  he,  and  that  they  should  still  be  glad  to  welcome 
him  to  their  communion  and  their  pulpits.  But  not  hav- 
ing been  in  the  region  of  special  agitation  on  this  and 
some  other  subjects,  he  was  not  before  prepared  to  make 
the  requisite  allowance  for  such  excitement. 

But  I  proceed  to  a  further  object  of  this  Letter,  which  is 
in  a  measure  obvious  on  its  pages.  lie  wished  to  smooth 
the  passage  of  masonry  to  both  an  honorable  and  a  speedy 
grave.  This  lie  expressly  declared  to  me  ;  and  deeply 
regretted  that  any  should  understand  the  general  style  of 
apology  in  which  his  Letter  was  written,  as  implying  that 
he  would  now  plead  for  the  continuance  of  the  institution. 
And  in  the  Letter  itself,  he  says  to  the  consociation, 
among  other  things,  that  perhaps  his  agreement  with  them 
on  the  subject  of  masonry,  might  be  nearly  as  great  as  on 
that  of  religion,  where,  as  he  had  already  stated,  he  sup- 
posed their  views  to  be  similar  to  his.  Probably  few  men 
more  deeply  regretted  its  continuance,  or  felt  more  con- 
fident that  it  would  soon  exist  only  in  history.  Hence  he 
wished  the  last  page  of  that  history,  to  be  such  as  to  ex- 
culpate the  innocent  from  moral  guilt. 

As  a  specimen  of  talent  and  of  touching  eloquence,  this 
little  pamphlet  is  perhaps  equal  to  any  thing  he  ever  print- 
ed. Would,  that  the  effort  and  feeling,  and  the  perma- 
nent sacrifice  of  health  that  it  cost  him,  had  been  reserved 
for  some  of  his  greater  objects  of  pursuit ! 

Still  the  work  was  fitted  to  do  good,  in  checking  the 
spirit  of  indiscriminate  anathema  among  christian  breth- 
ren, at  a  time  of  thrilling  excitement  in  some  parts  of  our 
country,  and  on  what  had  become  a  practical  and  fearful 
subject  for  many  churches.  And,  I  may  add,  that  it  is 
even  possible,  after  all,  that  at  the  judgment  day,  he  will 
be  found  to  have  accomplished  more  good,  by  this  wasting 
and  devout  effort,  than  he  could  have  done  in  any  other 
way  ; — and  thus,  in  this  unexpected  manner,  God  may 
be  found  to  have  essentially  answered  his  prayers  and  his 
ardent  hopes  of  usefulness  in  first  becoming  a  mason. 
This  is  the  most  pleasing  view  we  can  take  of  the  whole 
transaction  ;  and  here  I  desire  to  leave  it,  contenting  my- 
self with  a  statement  of  the  facts,  without  wishing  to 
enter  the  lists  of  controversy  on  either  side. 

We  now  turn  to  a  different  topic. 
28 


DEATH    OF    A    CHILD. 


TO    MR.    AND    MRS.    HASSELTINE. 

Wethersfield,  Sept.  4,  1828. 

Beloved  Parents, — At  the  sight  of  my  letter,  your 
heart  may  be  ready  to  ask,  "  Is  it  well  with  the  child?" 
1  trust,  "  it  is  well."  She  is  indeed  taken  from  us  ;  but  I 
hope,  she  is  taken  away  from  the  evil  to  come — that  our 
gracious  Savior  has  taken  her  to  himself.  This  morning 
at  half  after  seven,  her  little  spirit  was  emancipated. 
For  several  weeks,  she  had  been  sick  and  pining.  Yes- 
terday we  were  encouraged  to  hope,  that  she  was  better, 
and  fondly  anticipated  her  recovery.  This  morning,  I 
was  called,  between  four  and  five,  to  witness  the  solemn 
scene  of  her  departure.  Dear  little  one,  how  gently,  and 
how  sweetly  did  she  seem  to  "  languish  into  life."  Sev- 
eral times,  indeed,  she  had  considerable  struggles  with 
the  last  enemy.  But  at  length,  she  fell  asleep  so  gently, 
as  to  leave  it  doubtful  for  some  time,  whether  she  was 
sleeping  or  waking.  Sweet  babe  !  She  has  finished  her 
course,  when  it  was  scarcely  begun.  We  shall  go  to  her ; 
but  she  will  not  return  to  us.  To-morrow  we  expect  to 
commit  her  to  her  little  silent  bed.  May  grace  prepare  us 
to  follow.  The  health  of  Mrs.  Emerson,  considering  all 
her  care  and  toil  and  anxiety  and  watching,  is  quite  as 
good  as  we  could  reasonably  expect;  and  perhaps  better. 
She  is,  however,  very  feeble.  My  lameness  has  con- 
siderably increased.  In  other  respects,  I  am  nearly  as 
well  as  usual.  It  is  not  a  little  trying  for  us  both  to  be  so 
much  indisposed.  But  we  desire  to  rejoice,  that  though 
we  are  weak,  our  Immanuel  is  strong,  and  that  his  strength 
is  made  perfect  in  weakness.  O  for  faith  to  glory  in  in- 
firmities— that  the  strength  of  Christ  may  rest  upon  us — 
that  when  we  are  weak,  then  we  may  be  strong. 

It  is  not  to  be  inferred  from  the  above,  that  my  brother 
would  be  "  wise  above  what  is  written,"  in  respect  to  the 
future  state  of  infants.  In  the  case  of  those  at  least  whose 
parents  humbly  devote  them  to  God  in  prayer,  he  could 
say,  as  he  does  here,  "  I  trust  it  is  well." 

It  was  the  custom  of  my  brother,  frequently  if  not  uni- 
versally, to  open  and  to  close  each  term  in  his  seminary, 
svith   an  appropriate  address,   in   which  some  important 


MASONRY,    ETC.  327 

topic  was  discussed  with  care  and  interest.  Nothing  but 
want  of  room,  prevents  the  insertion  of  several  of  these 
addresses  in  the  present  work.  It  is  possible  that  they 
may  yet  appear  in  print,  in  some  shape.  One  of  them 
may  be  seen  in  two  of  the  numbers  of  the  Connecticut 
Observer,  for  Sept.  1828. 


TO    MISS    GRANT,    NOW    AT    IPSWICH. 

Wetkersfield,  Jan.  23,  1329. 

I  rejoice  in  your  better  health,  and  brighter  prospect  of 
usefulness  ;  and  desire  to  be  submissive,  though  my  own 
prospect  is  different.  My  health  is  feeble  and  my  diseases 
appear  to  be  advancing  without  the  least  prospect  of  a 
remedy.  I  hope  I  have  not  lived  altogether  in  vain  to 
others,  however  it  may  prove  with  regard  to  myself.  My 
prospect  into  eternity  is  dark;  alas!  much  darker  than  it 
should  be.  The  fault  is  all  my  own.  I  am  making  all 
possible  haste,  though  proceeding  very  slowly,  with  my  his- 
torical questions.  What  I  do  I  must  try  to  do  well,  how- 
ever little  it  may  be,  as  I  shall  not  be  permitted  to  come 
back  from  the  other  world  to  improve  it. 

Our  winter  school  is  more  numerous  and  respecta- 
ble than  ever  before,  consisting  of  forty-five.  Though 
Mrs.  E.'s  labors  are  so  very  great,  she  chooses  to  excuse 
me  from  the  business  of  literary  instruction,  that  I  may  be 
wholly  devoted  to  the  questions.  The  subject  of  our  his- 
tory seems  more  and  more  vast,  amazing,  and  glorious. 

TO  HIS  DAUGHTER,  THEN  AT  BOONV1LLE,  N.  Y. 

Wrthersfield,  May  18,1829. 

The  Genesee  Antimasons  have  sent  me  a  reply  of  forty 
three  pages,  8  vo.,  which  you  may  have  seen.  They  say, 
I  have  misapprehended  their  meaning,  that  they  are  will- 
ing to  invite  me  into  their  pulpits,  etc.  This  is  very  well, 
very  kind,  very  comforting.  This  is,  perhaps,  one  reason 
that  I  feel  better.  My  disciplinary  labor  with  them  is  at 
an  end.  Their  reply  is,  in  general,  sufficiently  severe, 
and  perhaps  a  little  more  so.  Whether  I  shall  add  a  re- 
joinder, I  know  not.  In  itself,  as  a  stimulating  exercise, 
just  hard  enough,  and  just  easy  enough,  it  would  be  de- 


328  FANATICISM,    ETC. 

lightful  ;  but  whether  I  am  called  to  devote  the  time  in 
this  way,  is  another  question. 

Wether -afield,  Sept.  9,1829. 

My  dear  Daughter, — Let  me  entreat  you  to  beware 
of  enthusiasm,  some  seeds  of  which,  it  may  be,  that  you 
inherit  from  both  your  parents.  Is  it  not  possible,  that 
the  spiritual  deadness  in  your  region,  so  deplorable  and  so 
deplored,  is  but  the  recoil  of  the  enormous  actions  of  Mr. 
,  and  his  coadjutors?  Do  ask  your  excellent  minis- 
ter what  he  would  say  to  such  a  query. 

Sept.  26. — You  are  '  sorry  I  do  not  like  Mr. any 

better.'  I  hope,  my  daughter,  it  is  my  heart's  desire  and 
prayer  to  God,  that  I  may  approve  the  things  that  are  ex- 
cellent.— I  think  it  may  be  lawful  for  a  woman  to  pray 
wherever  it  may  be  lawful  for  her  to  speak  ;  but  often  in- 
expedient,   improper,    and    criminal. — I   am  afraid,  very 

much  afraid,  of ism.     Not  that  I  am  opposed  to  zeal, 

and  faithful  dealing,  and  great  plainness  of  speech.  Alas, 
for  the  coldness  and  deadness  of  almost  every  body.  But 
I  fear  that  Mr. 's  zeal,  at  least  much  of  it,  is  not  ac- 
cording to  knowledge,  and  worse  than  coldness.  I  was 
credibly  informed,  by  an  ear-witness,  that  Mr. ad- 
dressed an  individual,  in  the  midst  of  a  sermon,  in  the  fol- 
lowing words  :  "  You  will  be  in  hell  in  two  hours.  You 
are  there  now."  It  is  but  a  miserable  apology  to  say, 
This  is  his  way,  and  we  must  overlook  it.  Such  a  way  is 
certainly  the  way  of  folly,  or  the  way  of  madness.  Such  a 
way,  I  certainly  could  not  tolerate  in  my  minister. 

The  Misses  B.,  two  of  our  pupils  from  Scotland,  united 
with  our  church  last  Sabbath.  I  trust  these  amiable 
strangers  were  sent  hither  to  repent  and  give  glory  to  God. 

Wethersfield,  Oct.  20,  1829. 
My  dear  Son  L., — If  you  have  sufficiency  of  cash, 
you  may  purchase  the  Christian  Father's  Present,  and  re- 
ceive it  as  a  present  from  me.  I  shall  expect  you  to  read 
it  with  prayerful  attention,  and  freely  express  your  opinion 
of  the  merits  and  demerits  of  its  various  parts,  by  writing 
a  review  of  each  chapter,  as  you  proceed,  for  my  inspec- 
tion. For  various  reasons,  the  writing  of  reviews  is  one 
of  the  most  profitable  exercises  in  which  you  can  engage. 
This  exercise  gives  you  very  great  latitude.     Besides  crit- 


VISITS    MASSACHUSETTS.  329 

icisms  upon  the  author,  you  may  add  remarks,  just  accord- 
ing as  your  ideas  may  flow.  It  may  be  well  to  make  a 
book  of  two  or  three  sheets  for  your  manuscript,  which,  I 
hope,  you  will  complete  in  the  course  of  the  winter.  The 
review  of  each  chapter,  I  wish  you  to  write  in  the  form  of 
a  letter  to  me.  You  may  be  more  or  less  copious  upon 
each,  just  as  you  feel,  from  twenty  lines  to  two  hundred. 
I  hope  you  will  find  the  exercise  no  less  pleasant  than 
profitable. 

I  wish  you  to  pray  particularly  for  your  parents,  and 
brothers,  and  sisters,  once  a  week  at  least,  Sabbath  eve 
ning  ;  and  we  will  endeavor  to  remember  you. 

At  this  period,  my  brother  visited  his  friends  in  Massa- 
chusetts, and  spent  some  time  in  giving  popular  lectures 
on  history,  with  the  aid  of  a  large  historical  chart,  of  his 
own  construction,  and  on  a  plan  wholly  original.  This 
chart  was  the  resujt  of  much  thought  and  labor  ;  and 
though  he  had  long  been  forming  it,  he  still  found  it  in- 
complete, and  was  striving  to  perfect  it.  The  following 
extracts  will  sufficiently  indicate  his  employment  and  suc- 
cess while  absent. 

Beverhj,  Oct.  29,  1829. 

My  dearest  Companion, — The  paper  which  I  send 
will  show  you  what  I  am  doing.  I  have  just  returned 
from  my  fourth  lecture.  It  was  delightful  to  meet  more 
than  one  hundred  patrons  in  the  Town  Hall,  and  to  see 
them  appear  so  very  attentive,  to  the  end  of  the  lecture. 
To  be  able  to  do  a  little  business,  and,  as  I  trust,  a  little 
good,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  find  my  health  gradually 
improving,  seems  like  life  from  the  dead. 

Charlestown,  (Ms.)  Nov.  5,  1829. 

7  .My  dearest  Companion, — My  solicitude  respecting 
my  lectures,  is  much  greater  than  I  could  wish,  and  I  fear 
may  prove  seriously  injurious.  On  the  one  hand,  my 
project  appears  continually  rising  in  importance.  I  feel 
as  'though  1  had  found  the  lever  of  Archimedes,  by  which, 
with  the  health  common  to  man,  I  could  move  and  elevate 
the  world.  And  I  receive  as  much  encouragement,  as  I 
dared  to  expect.  But  the  obstacles  appear  greater  and 
greater,  and  sometimes  quite  insurmountable.  And  yet  I 
28* 


330  LECTURES    ON    HISTORY. 

am  very  far  from   being  sad.     I  have  too  much  of  the 
"  noble  infirmity,"  to  despond. 

Charlestown,  Dec.  1,  1829. 

My  dear  Daughter, — The  Recorder  has  doubtless 
told  you  my  present  business.  It  would  not,  perhaps,  be 
altogether  incorrect  to  say,  that  my  lectures  are  "in  the 
full  tide  of  successful  experiment."  But  though  it  is  full 
tide,  it  is  neither  a  golden  tide,  nor  a  spring  tide ;  and 
how  soon  it  may  be  neap  tide,  and  ebb  tide,  and  no  tide,  I 
do  not  trouble  myself  with  conjecturing.  "  Sufficient 
unto  the  day." 

I  cannot  but  hope  that  my  health  is  a  little  improved. 
The  distance  of  a  mile  is  now  a  comfortable  and  invigora- 
ting walk  for  me ;  and  I  attend  my  lectures  in  the  evening 
without  much  apparent  injury.  This,  however,  would 
undoubtedly  be  injurious,  if  it  were  not  for  the  protection 
of  a  wadded  wrapper  that  I  have  lately  purchased.  This 
is  my  body-guard,  my  life-guard.  Enclosed  in  this,  I  can 
rush  along  through  the  stiff  breeze,  and  scarcely  feel  the 
cold. 

Charlestown,  Dec.  19,  1829. 

My  dear  Wife, — My  heart  is  full  of  gladness,  mixed, 
as  I  trust,  with  some  degree  of  gratitude.  My  lectures 
here  are  brought  to  a  close — a  very  pleasant  close,  and 
now  I  feel  a  confidence  in  the  vast  utility  of  my  plan,  and 
an  encouragement  to  proceed,  that  I  did  not  dare  to  an- 
ticipate. Almost  the  only  tinge  of  melancholy,  with  which 
my  mind  is  sometimes  discolored,  is  occasioned  by  the 
fear,  that  my  dearest  friend  is  unhappy,  borne  down  with 
toil,  and  overwhelmed  with  care.  But  I  hope  soon  to  be 
with  you. 

It  became  convenient  for  me  to  be  with  my  brother 
during  a  part  of  this  period  at  Charlestown,  and  I  at- 
tended a  number  of  his  lectures.  Most  of  his  hearers 
were  in  early  life,  and  some  of  them  quite  young.  I  was 
astonished  and  delighted  to  witness  the  interest  with 
which  he  invested  his  judicious  selection  of  facts.  Every 
eye  was  fixed  and  every  heart  awake.  The  youngest 
could  understand,  and  the  most  mature  were  instructed, 
at  least  by  his  remarks  if  not  in  the  historic  facts.  He 
made  frequent  and  admirable  use   of  his  charts,  and  of  a 


PREACHES    ON    POPERY.  331 

number  of  large  maps,  which  were  all  suspended  in  full 
view.  Probably  but  few  others  could  succeed  so  well  as 
himself  with  this  apparatus  of  his  own  devising. 

It  may  not  be  improper  to  state  that  while  here,  my 
brother  preached  by  far  the  ablest  sermon  I  ever  heard 
from  his  lips.  It  was  on  popery  as  predicted  by  Daniel 
and  John,  and  since  developed  at  Rome  and  throughout 
the  papal  world.  The  subject  was  one  he  had  long  and 
profoundly  studied,  and  deeply  felt.  And  now,  as  he 
walked  the  streets  of  this  memorable  town,  and  gazed 
with  veneration  on  the  "  awful  mount,"  where  our  fathers 
first  bled  for  sacred  freedom,  and  then  cast  his  eye  on  the 
neighboring  height  and  beheld  the  newly  risen  popish 
convent,  with  its  seductive  school  of  political  and  re- 
ligious death,  "  his  spirit  was  stirred  within  him."  All 
his  patriotism,  all  his  piety,  all  his  reverence  for  the  past 
and  his  hopes  and  fears  for  the  future,  conspired  to  brace 
and  fire  his  soul  to  an  effort  that  would  not  have  dis- 
graced a  puritan  of  other  days.  It  was  on  Sabbath  eve- 
ning, Dec.  20,  and  just  at  the  eve  of  the  anniversary  of 
the  Pilgrims'  landing  at  Plymouth.  Notice  had  been  given 
among  different  denominations,  of  his  intention  to  com- 
ply with  their  general  wish,  and  preach  on  the  topic 
which  was  then  exciting  so  much  interest.  The  large 
house  of  Dr.  Fay,  was  crowded.  His  notes  being  very 
brief,  he  spoke  mostly  extempore;  and  amid  the  lucid 
demonstrations  of  his  argument,  gave  bold  scope  to  the 
intensity  of  his  feelings.  The  impression  was  strong  and 
abiding,  on  friend,  and  foe,  and  sceptic  in  the  sacred 
cause. — Though  repeatedly  urged  to  write  and  publish  this 
long  discourse,  I  regret  to  say,  that  he  never  found  lei- 
sure and  strength  to  do  it.  I  have  no  where  met  with 
so  clear  and  striking  an  exhibition  and  the  perfect  same- 
ness of  popery  as  delineated  in  prophecy  and  in  history. 
The  very  sorceress  of  Rome  was  seen  before  us,  riding 
on  her  "scarlet-colored  beast,  full  of  names  of  blasphe- 
my." 

I  shall  here  venture  to  give  the  outline  of  this  discourse, 
as  found  among  his  papers.  It  will  show  what  kind  of 
notes  he  was  accustomed  to  use  in  his  extempore  ser- 
mons ;  and  may  also  suggest  important  trains  of  thought, 
especially  to  those  who  were  accustomed  to  his  manner 
of  filling  out  such  sketches. 


332  SERMON    ON 

Requested  to  speak  upon  Mystical  Babylon — humbly 
attempt — with  fear  and  trembling. 

Rev.  IT  :  5.     Mystery,  Babylon  the  great.  —  :  1 — 5. 

May  be  discouraged  from  looking  at  the  subject,  be- 
cause it  is  mysterious — 

Mark  4 :  11 — Unto  you  it  is  given  to  know  mysteries — 

1  Cor.  15:  51,  Behold  I  show — Spiritual  Babylon  a 
mystery — may  be  known — Was  known  to  John,  17  :  7. 

But  not  without  attention  and  study 

To  unlock  this  mystery,  God  has  provided  two  keys — 
more  precious  than  gold — The  first  was  presented  to  Ne- 
buchadnezzar— and  explained  by  Daniel — 

The  other  to  Daniel  and  explained  to  him  by  one  of 
the  celestials — 7  :  16. 

If  we  can  gain  possession  of  these  keys  and  learn  to 
use  them,  certain  1  am,  that  we  can  unlock  the  dark 
mysteries  of  the  spiritual  Babylon — we  can  drive  back 
the  dreadful  bolt — we  can  open  the  tremendous  iron  door 
— we  can  look  in  and  behold — darkness  visible — more 
dark  and  dreadful  than  Milton's  Pandemonium.  And 
then  he  who  dares  (and  surely  every  soldier  of  the  cross 
will  dare) — may  take  the  lamp  of  God  and  enter.  He  in- 
stantly finds  himself  in  the  chambers  of  imagery.  As  he 
proceeds  from  chamber  to  chamber,  he  is  struck  with 
greater  and  greater  abominations,  till  he  is  ready  to  sink, 
overwhelmed  with  amazement — till  he  feels,  in  some  meas- 
ure, as  John  felt  in  viewing  the  mother  of  harlots.  When 
I  saw  her,  says  he,  I  wondered  with  great  admiration. 

But,  my  friends,  it  is  not  my  object  to  address  you  in 
mere  assertion  upon  this  awful  subject. 

Let  us  then  go  to  the  holy  prophet,  and  take  the  keys 
from  his  heaven-directed  hand.  If  I  do  not  mistake,  they 
will  be  found  more  powerful,  than  the  keys  of  the  kingdom, 
as  wielded  by  the  pretended  successors  of  the  holy  apostle 
Peter.     Dan.  2  :  31—- 45. 

[Read  through  and  then  briefly  comment.] 

The  first  key  prepares  the  way  for  the  second. 

Dan.  7  :  1—27. 

With  these  two  keys,  bright  and  glowing  with  the  radi- 
ance of  heaven,  let  us  go  to  the  Revelation,  and  see  if  we 
can  unlock  the  mystery  of  Babylon  the  great. 

Blessed  is  he  that  readeth.     Rev.  17  :  1 — 7. 

Now  if  we  can   ascertain  who  the   beast  was,  we  can 


POPERY. 


333 


hardly  fail  in  determining  who  the  rider  was.  The  mys- 
tery of  the  beast,  the  keys  of  Daniel  will  certainly  unlock. 
At  least,  they  will  open  the  covering  spread  over  the  beast, 
and  show  us  the  monster,  though  they  may  not  enable  us 
to  count  every  spot,  or  to  take  the  dimensions  of  every 
claw.  Let  us  then  apply  them  to  Rev.  13  :  1 — 7. 
I  remark  then, 

1.  It  must  be  the  power  that  exercised  the  whole  power 
of  the  Roman  beast. This  must  be  Popery. 

2.  Mystical  Babylon  was  the  same  as  the  second  beast. 
Rev.  13  :  11—18 Popery. 

3.  Mystical  Babylon  sat  upon  seven  mountains.  Rev. 
17  :  9.  It  is  well  known  that  Rome  was  built  upon  seven 
mounts,  the  Palatine,  Capetoline,  Aventine,  etc. 

4.  Mystical  Babylon  was  the  most  tremendous  persecut- 
ing power  that  ever  existed.     Rev.  17:6,  and  18  :  24. 

Must  be  Popery 

50,000,000. 

Let  it  not  be  said  that  Popery  has  changed  in  this  re- 
spect. 

Nor  let  it  be  said  that  Protestants  are  in  this  respect 

like  the  Papists.     They  are  not They  never  were 

If  some  of  them  have  tinged  the  tip  of  their  fingers 

never  drunk Edward Reformed 

REFLECTION. 

We  should  separate  ourselves  from  Popery  as  far  as  pos- 
sible.— 18  :  4 — I — 4. 

Their  sins  have  reached  to  heaven 

Most  tremendous  judgments  are  coming  upon  them. 
Rev.  18  :  4—11. 

I  do  believe  it  is  a  mistake  for  us  to  enter  their  houses 
of  worship,  or  in  any  way  bid  them  God  speed. 


Let  us  do  nothing  to  encourage  their  institutions. 

They  are  certainly  treasuring  up  wrath. 

Let  us   not   even  look  toward  a  nunnery,  except  with 

emotions  of  horror. 

A  nunnery  in  Charlestown  ! — the  most  dreadful  sight 

that  these  eyes  have  ever  looked  upon. 

A  nunnery  in  Charlestown  ! — It  is  the  flag  of  Babylon 

on  the  very  altar  of  the  first  great  burnt  offering  in   the 

cause  of  our  freedom. 


834  PUBLICATIONS,    ETC. 

A  nunnery  in  Charlestown  ! — Is  it  not  enough  to  waken 
the  ashes  of  the  seraphic  Shepherd  from  their  slumbers  ? 
— to  cause  the  stones  to  cry  out ;  especially  those  that 
watch  at  the  grave  of  Howard  ?  Is  it  not  enough  to  call 
Winthrop  from  heaven,  with  his  flaming  sword — I  mean 
the  sword  of  the  Spirit — the  only  one  that  ever  ought  to 
be  employed  against  nunneries. 

My  dear  brethren  and  fellow-citizens,  if  any  of  you 

Let  the  Samsons  of  our  liberty they  are  many  and 

they  are  mighty — they  are  many  ten  thousands — they  are 
able  to  bid  defiance  to  a  world  in  arms,  if  they  a^re  not  en- 
chanted by  the  great  sorceress  of  the  nations. 

Let  our  Samsons  beware  how  they  recline  their  drowsy 
heads  in  the  lap  of  Delilah,  the  great  mother  of  harlots. 
The  keen  razor  will  work  most  deceitfully.  Before  they 
dream  of  their  danger,  their  seven  locks  are  gone. 

Our  strength our  liberties our  republic reli- 
gion  God  save  us  from  such  perdition. 

TO    MISS    GRANT. 

Wethersfield,  Dec.  25,  1829. 

My  Questions,  etc.  to  G.'s  History  of  the  United  States, 
are  soon  to  be  stereotyped. 

I  expect  soon  to  complete  my  Poetic  Reader  and  Use- 
ful Penman.      Have  you  any  thing  to  suggest  upon  these? 

My  estimation  of  my  Chart  and  my  new  method  of 
studying  and  teaching  history,  is  still  rising.  If  you  will 
bear  with  me  a  little  in  my  folly,  I  will  say,  that  I  have 
probably  never  gained  more  useful  information  or  mental 
improvement  in  an  equal  time,  than  during  the  last  seven 
weeks.  I  am  amazed  with  the  greatness  and  the  invigor- 
ating, exalting  influence  of  historical  studies  and  instruc- 
tions, as  aided  by  this  simple  apparatus.  The  number  of 
lectures,  however,  to  those  who  know  little  of  history, 
should  probably  be  from  thirty  to  forty.  I  am  still  ardent- 
ly, and  I  hope,  devoutly  engaged  in  searching  for  improve- 
ments upon  what  I  am  induced  to  consider  my  best  lite- 
rary project.  I  fear  I  shall  never  have  the  pleasure  to 
lecture  your  pupils,  whom  I  regard  somewhat  as  my  grand 
children. 

I  returned  two  days  ago,  in  comfortable  health.  Found 
Mrs.  E.  with  a  school  of  nearly    fifty,  a  winter's  school 


FALSE    HOPE.  335 

more  numerous   and  more  promising  than  we  have  had 
before. 

lVethersfieldj  April  15,  1830. 
My  dear  Brother  W. — After  being  absent  a  fort- 
night, on  a  visit  to  New  Haven  and  New  York,  where  I 
had  special  business,  1  hasten  to  answer  your  letter  of  the 
26th  ult.  It  was  like  good  news  from  a  far  country  ;  and 
yet  it  would  have  been  far  better,  had  it  spoken  of  you  as 
rejoicing  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God.  And  yet  your 
no-hopc  may  prove  infinitely  better,  than  the  hope  of  the 
hypocrite.  I  rejoice,  that  you  have  not  given  up  all  care 
for  religion.  Far  be  it  from  me,  to  accuse  you  of  insin- 
cerity. But  is  it  not  possible,  that  your  fond  heart  may 
have  deceived  yourself,  and  induced  you  to  overlook  a 
skulking  hope  in  some  of  the  dark  chambers  of  imagery? 
Could  you  but  know  for  certainty — could  you  but  realize, 
that  you  are  now  in  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  bond  of  ini- 
quity, would  you  not  instantly  cry  out  in  bitter  anguish,  O 
wretched  man  that  I  am  !  which  way  shall  I  rly  infinite 
wrath  and  infinite  despair  1  A  false  hope  is  perhaps  the 
most  dangerous  of  all  feelings  and  exercises,  that  can  pos- 
sibly possess  the  mind  of  an  impenitent.  I  consider  it 
little  short  of  ruin  itself — little  short  of  a  spiritual  death- 
warrant — a  warrant  for  eternal  execution.  As  a  skilful 
soldier,  then,  be  doubly  guarded  at  this  point  of  double 
danger.  Perhaps  most  persons,  who  go  to  destruction 
after  such  opportunities  and  light  and  exercises  as  you 
have  had,  are  ruined  by  a  false  hope.  You  are  also  in 
danger  of  taking  refuge  under  your  "  moral  inability  :" 
which,  strictly  speaking,  I  consider  no  inability.  I  regret 
that  the  phrase  was  ever  invented.  I  believe  it  has  done 
ten  times  more  harm  than  good. 

Wethersfidd,  June  12,  1830. 
My  dear  Daughter  N., — I  am  pleased  that  you  ex- 
press yourself  with  so  much  freedom  upon  the  most  mo- 
mentous and  interesting  of  all  subjects.  Reserve  upon 
this  topic  is  unquestionably  among  the  abominations  of  N. 
E.  christians.  I  would  much  rather  you  should  have  some 
chaff  among  your  wheat,  than  that  you  should  be  a  mere 
bunch  of  wood,  hay,  stubble, — a  polished  block  of  marble, 
a  shining  iceberg.  Perhaps  it  may  be  best  for  us  to  leave 
the  trial  of  Mr. 's  character  and  works,  to  the  judgment 


336  DELICATE    CONSCIENCE,    ETC. 

of  the  great  day,  where  his  friends  and  his  enemies,  his 
accusers  and  defenders,  his  admirers  and  contemners,  his 
flatterers  and  abusers,  his  worshippers  and  mockers,  must 
all  meet  him ;  and  no  doubt,  all  will  find  him  different 
from  what  they  may  now  anticipate.  When  I  was  at  — 
my  eyes  longed  to  see  him  ;  my  ears  itched  to  hear  him ; 
and  I  hope  I  felt  a  higher  motive  to  attend  upon  his  min- 
istration;  but  when  I  was  informed  by  credible  witnesses 
that  his  manner  was  exceedingly  irreverent,  I  feared  I 
should  be  much  more  shocked  than  edified. — "i  will  be 
sanctified  in  them  that  come  nigh  me"  came  with  over- 
whelming energy  to  my  conscience,  and  I  did  not  dare  at- 
tend. Possibly,  however,  my  conscience  might  be  misin- 
formed;  and  if  I  have  another  opportunity,  1  may  judge 
differently.  The  question  has  arisen  in  my  mind,  Were 
Christ  and  Paul  and  Baxter  and  Edwards  and  Whitefield 
opposed  and  disapproved  by  such  excellent  characters  as 
oppose  Mr. 1  I  do  not  wish  you  to  answer  the  ques- 
tion ;  but  I  should  like  exceedingly  to  hear  what  he  would 
say  to  it. 

TO    MISS    G. 

Wetkersfield,  June  19,  1830. 

You  know  already,  much  better  than  I  can  tell  you,  how 
much  I  wish  you  to  live.  Yes,  my  sister,  I  am  willing 
your  transit  to  heaven  should  be  delayed  for  fifty  years 
longer.  Then,  I  trust,  you  can  go  and  announce  to  your 
"sister  spirits,"  and  perhaps  to  your  waiting  brother,  how 
you  shall  have  seen  and  felt  the  latter-day-glory,  (not  the 
millennium,  the  latter-day-glory,)  beginning,  rising,  ad- 
vancing, rejoicing,  like  the  sun  in  his  strength,  while  the 
remaining  children  of  darkness,  discomfited  and  scattered, 
shall  be  overwhelmed  with  terror,  and  satan,  perchance, 
in  horrid  conclave  with  his  peers,  shall  be  consulting  how 
he  shall  rally  his  forces  for  the  final  onset.  This  latter- 
day-glory,  which  shall  be  so  terrible  to  Sabbath-breakers, 
covenant-breakers,  man-stealers,  scoffers,  etc.,  may  you 
not  only  witness  and  enjoy,  but  do  much  to  bring  on  and 
advance.  In  this  view  I  can  rejoice — I  can  doubly  re- 
joice in  your  great  and  rising  prosperity — rejoice  exceed- 
ingly that  you  should  increase,  though  I  should  decrease 


MISCELLANEOUS.  337 

and  sink  into  oblivion,  and  hide  in  the  grave,  which  seems 
to  have  been  so  long  waiting  for  me.  But  I  still  live  and 
totter  along  on  the  very  brink  of  eternity. 

But  probably  there  is  no  enemy  to  grace  more  dangerous, 
no,  not  even  satan  himself,  than  popularity.  As  a  means 
of  usefulness  it  may  be  desirable;  but  on  all  other  ac- 
counts, it  is  perhaps  to  be  deprecated.  May  the  Lord  sus- 
tain you. 

Primary  truths,  I  consider  such  as  are  knowable  by  us, 
but  incapable  of  proof.  I  should  need  to  fill  about  two 
pages  to  justify  this  definition.  Both  of  tho?e  you  men- 
tion, appear  imperfect.  Do  write  me  fifty  questions 
upon  metaphysics.  I  shall  delight  to  think  of  them,  at 
least. 

I  have  lectured  my  pupils  three  or  four  hours  upon 
conversation.  It  is  hardly  needful  to  tell  you,  that  the 
subject  seems  continually  rising  in  importance — wide  as 
the  world — vast  as  eternity — interesting  as  the  millennium 
— momentous  as  heaven.  O  what  reason  had  Paul  to 
thank  God  that  he  could  speak  with  tongues — that  he 
could  speak  to  all  of  Jesus  and  salvation. 

At  this  period,  my  brother  was  "  elected  to  the  office  of 
counsellor,  in  the  Institute  of  Instruction,"  at  Boston;  the 
meetings  of  which  body  he  was  careful  to  attend,  when 
practicable,  and  ever  ready  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  aid 
their  laudable  object,  which  indeed  had  long  been  a  great 
object  of  his  life. 

While  on  a  visit  to  this  region,  and  with  good  reason 
fearing  that  his  complicated  maladies  might  soon  end  his 
days,  his  very  kind  friend,  Dr.  Whiting  of  Haverhill,  inves- 
tigated his  case  with  much  care,  and  invented  a  prescrip- 
tion which  proved  of  much  value  in  his  difficult  case.  We 
shall  find  a  subsequent  reference  to  this  remedy,  under  the 
name  of  albi,  a  name  which  my  brother  gave  it  in  honor  of 
the  inventor.  We  shall  soon  rind  him  again  fleeing  to  the 
South. 

Perhaps  it  ought,  before  this,  to  have  been  mentioned, 
that  his  complaints  were  connected  with  an  inveterate 
dyspepsy  ;  and  perhaps  most  of  them  owing  to  this  prolific 
maladv. 

29 


338  PRESERVATION. 


Wether  sfield,  Sept.  18,  1830. 

My  dear  Parents  and  Sisters, — By  the  good  hand 
of  our  God  upon  me,  I  arrived  the  day  before  yesterday, 
some  days  sooner  than  I  had  dared  to  hope.  I  have  es- 
pecially to  acknowledge  his  care  in  protecting  myself  and 
those  around  me  from  material  injury,  when  the  stage  was 
overturned.  This  catastrophe  occurred  in  Stafford,  three 
days  ago.  There  was  no  considerable  injury  to  any  per- 
son.    There  were  eight  passengers. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 


HIS    THIRD    VISIT    AT    THE    SOUTH,    1830 1831. 

State,  of  his  health — Pay  son — Arrival  in  Charleston — 
His  situation  there — Retrospection  on  his  Jirst  mar- 
riage, etc. — On  college  studies — Hebrew — Hermcneu- 
tics — Very  feeble — Sends  for  his  son — Better — Lec- 
tures on  history — Returns — Letter  from  Miss  R. 
Eaton. 

We  are  now  to  accompany  my  brother  on  another 
southern  tour  for  his  health. 

New   York,  Oct.  18,  1830. 

My  dearest  Companion*, — In  great  mercy,  my  life 
has  been  preserved,  and,  as  I  hope,  my  health  a  little  im- 
proved. Journeying  in  the  stage  was  manifestly  benefi- 
cial, and  by  steam-boat,  not  apparently  injurious.  I  should 
feel  much  encouraged  with  regard  to  my  health,  if  it  were 
not,  that  I  am  taking  so  much  medicine — nine  doses  a 
day.  Is  not  this  enough  to  make  a  well  man  sick?  And 
yet  it  does  seem  to  have  made  a  sick  man  better.  I  say 
seem;  what  the  reality  is,  may  be  better  known  a  year 
hence. 

New  York,  Oct.  18,  1830. 

My  dear  Daughter, — My  heart  has  been  aching  for 
you  for  weeks.  I  have  known  full  well  the  bitterness  of 
lingering  out  tedious  days  in  long  succession,  in  painful 
and  continually  disappointed  hope  of  letters  from  far  dis- 
tant friends.  You  will  find  it  but  a  melancholy  consolation 
to  know,  that  we  have  indeed  been  sick  or  indisposed. 
My  health  seems  to  have  been  declining  since  April.  I 
did  less  than  usual  during  the  first  term,  and  have  not 
heard  a  single  recitation,  nor  delivered  a  single  lecture, 
during  the  second.  Within  a  few  weeks  I  have  been  tak- 
ing abundance  of    medicine.     My   daily  allowance   pre- 


340  PAYSON,    ETC. 

scribed  by  Dr.  W.  is  three  doses  of  columbo,  three  of  soda, 
two  of  a  composition  of  myrrh,  sal  seratus,  aloes,  and  cin- 
namon, and  one  of  gum  goachc,  as  it  is  vulgarly  called. 
This  course  seems  to  have  had  a  favorable  effect  thus  far. 
The  myrrh,  etc.,  has  enabled  me  to  eat  beef  and  oysters 
pretty  copiously,  with  very  little  injury  ;  and  the  go-ache 
seems  to  have  had  a  wonderful  effect  in  causing  my  aches 
to  go  from  me.  I  am,  therefore,  disposed  to  use  the  vul- 
gar name.  The  scientific  name  is  gum  guaiacum.  It  is 
the  gum  of  lignum  vitas. — Dear  daughter,  pray  for  your 
dying  parent,  who  has  recently  had  much  more  intimate 
and  realizing  intercourse  with  eternity,  than  ever  before. 
Have  you  read  Payson's  Memoir  ?  What  a  man  !  What 
a  christian  !  What  a  minister  !  This  book,  I  trust,  has 
done  me  good,  if  any  thing  ever  did.  O  that  myriads  of 
copies  were  circulated  through  our  land.  If  you  do  not 
own  it  already,  let  me  beg  of  you  to  procure  it  as  soon  as 
may  be,  and  read  it,  and  lend  it,  as  much  as  possible.  Do 
tell  me  somewhat  particularly  how  you  like  it.  You  know, 
I  never  taught  you  to  fear  cherishing  and  giving  an  opinion 
contrary  to  your  father's.  What  parts  do  you  like  best? 
What  parts  do  you  dislike?  Though  not  called  to  do  the 
work  of  Payson,  you  do  need  his  ardor,  his  humility,  his 
self-crucifixion,  his  devotedness  to  God.  I  have  some 
doubt,  whether  our  country  has  witnessed  his  equal  since 
the  blessed  Edwards  ascended  to  glory.  His  volume  of 
sermons  is  probably  the  best  in  our  language.  O  for  a 
thousand  Paysons!  And  yet  ten  thousand  Paysons  could 
never  convert  nor  edify  a  single  soul,  without  the  Almighty 
Spirit.  And  yet  ten  thousand  Paysons  would  certainly  so 
labor  and  pray,  that  the  Spirit  would  take  possession  of 
every  heart  on  earth  in  a  very  few  years.  Mv  dear  sister- 
child,  pray,  plead,  wrestle,  agonize  that  your  brothers  may 
be  such,  and  more.  If  I  had  ten  sons,  I  should  rejoice 
exceedingly  to  have  them  all  good  ministers.  But  a  wick- 
ed  minister  is  the  curse  of  all  curses. 

I  am  now  fleeing  for  life  and  health — attempting  to 
make  my  escape  from  the  rigors  of  a  N.  E.  winter — to 
take  refuge  in  that  dear  hospitable  city,  Charleston,  S.  C. 
I  expect  to  sail  from  this  city  (N.  Y.)  in  three  or  four 
days.  Notwithstanding  my  neglect,  which  I  cannot  wholly 
justify,  may  1  not  hope  that  you  will  write  immediately, 
that  your  letter  may  meet  me  at  Charleston.     If  your  eyes 


I M.RCISE CRITICISM,    ETC.  341 

are  unequal  to  the  task,  employ  the  hand  of  a  friend.  I 
will  gladly  give  twenty-five  cents  for  ten  lines  with  your 
signature  at  the  bottom. 

A  ir    York,   Oct.  22,  1330. 

My  deab  Son  L. — What  reason  have  you  to  be  thank- 
ful for  bodily  strength.  My  son,  take  heed,  that  you  never 
despise,  nor  seem  to  despise,  ''perfections,  that  are  placed 
in  bones  and  nerves."  It  is  true,  these  are  not  heaven, 
nor  spiritual  life,  nor  intellectual  riches  ;  but  they  may 
have  an  important  connection  with  all  these.  I  am  now 
convinced,  that  moderate  exercise  is  much  better  than 
entire  rest  immediately  after  eating — that  I  should  exer- 
cise most  vigorously  about  two  hours  after  a  meal.  But  a 
good  rule  for  me,  may  be  a  bad  one  for  you.  Try,  and 
judge  for  yourself,  and  learn  to  vary,  as  circumstances 
may  vary.  But  I  hardly  need  to  tell  you,  that  it  is  ten 
thousand  times  better — infinitely  belter,  to  be  a  babe  in 
Christ,  with  all  my  infirmities  of  body  and  ten  times  more, 
than  to  be  a  giant  in  iniquity,  with  the  strength  of  Sam- 
son. Let  me  entreat  you  to  pray  daily  for  your  father's 
health,  especially  for  the  health  of  his  soul. 

It  is  very  doubtful  whether  we  shall  ever  have  another 
opportunity  to  unite  in  conversing  and  praying  together  in 
the  present  world.  Be  it  our  daily  prayer,  our  unceasing 
effort,  that  we  may  enjoy  a  sweeter  communion,  a  nobler 
worship  above.  You  cannot  easily  imagine,  how  much  I 
am  gratified,  that  you  are  so  much  interested  and  pleased 
with  Payson's  Memoir.  Do  tell  me  if  you  find  any  thing 
exceptionable  in  this  excellent  book,  or  the  wonderful  man 
of  whom  it  treats.  I  am  tar  enough  from  wishing  you 
to  be  a  carping,  captious  critic  ;  but  I  do  wish  that  you 
may  be  enabled  easily,  clearly  and  decidedly  to  distinguish 
between  the  precious  and  the  vile — to  take  the  good  and 
cast  the  bad  away.  If  there  is  any  thing  bad  in  con- 
nection with  what  is  most  excellent,  we  are  in  the  great- 
est danger  of  receiving  it  Prove  all  things;  hold  fast 
that  which  is  good.  Payson's  Sermons,  too,  are  a  treas- 
ure ;  perhaps  the  be<t  volume  of  sermons  in  print.  I  wish 
if  convenient  that  you  may  read  one  of  them  every  week, 
most  devouily  and  attentively,  at  least  till  you  have  read 
them  twice  through.  Such  reading  will  increase  your  intel- 
lectual riches  ;  it  will  be  health  to  your  rhetoric,  hea.t'1  to 
your  logic.       '  T  trust  health  to  your  spirit. 


342  SITUATION    AT    CHARLESTON. 

Charleston,  Nov.  3,  1830. 

Beloved  Parents  and  Sisters, — In  great  mercy,  I 
have  been  brought  once  more,  to  this  hospitable  and  health- 
restoring  city.  Wonderful  indeed  have  been  the  favors, 
which  a  kind  Providence  has  shown  me,  since  I  left  Brad- 
ford, especially  those  relating  to  my  journeyings  by  land 
and  sea.  I  find  myself  here  apparently  in  much  better 
health,  and  much  more  favorably  situated,  than  I  had  dared 
to  expect.  My  sister  R.  Eaton,  engaged  here  in  a  school, 
having  hired  a  house,  etc.,  with  abundance  of  room  for 
me  and  my  books,  was  kind  enough,  about  four  weeks 
ago,  to  invite  me  to  spend  the  winter  with  her.  I  am  bet- 
ter accommodated  than  I  could  expect  to  be  at  any  board- 
ing house.  Near  the  centre  of  a  square,  I  am  more  re- 
tired than  could  well  be  supposed,  in  the  midst  of  such  a 
city.  Dr.  M'D.,  who  with  his  wife  lately  made  me  a  visit 
of  three  or  four  days  at  W.,  is  my  nearest  neighbor.  You 
can  hardly  imagine  how  much  1  rejoice  in  being  so  near 
him.  His  study  and  mine,  which  are  both  separate  build- 
ings, are  within  two  feet  of  each  other.  I  am  peculi- 
arly favored  with  the  comforts  of  life  that  seem  most  con- 
ducive to  my  restoration  and  strength.  For  these,  and 
many  other  favors,  both  temporal  and  spiritual,  I  desire  to 
render  most  humble  and  hearty  thanks.  But  still  my  joy 
is  not  full ;  nor  my  blessings  without  great  trials.  I  am 
far  away  from  my  beloved  family,  doubting  in  some  degree 
whether  I  shall  ever  see  one  of  them  again  on  this  side  the 
grave.  And  my  dear,  dear  Rebecca!  my  heartaches  for 
her  from  day  to  day.  Subjected  to  temporary  widowhood, 
which  may  prove  permanent,  what  cares,  what  toils,  what 
distressing  burdens,  are  falling  to  her  lot!  May  she  find 
the  grace  of  Christ  sufficient  for  her. 

I  arrived  here  four  days  ago,  after  a  short  passage  from 
New  York,  whither  I  had  come  by  stage  and  steam  boat. 
So  far  from  being  sea-sick,  I  was  able  to  take  my  full  allow- 
ance of  beef,  oysters,  etc.,  every  day,  and  to  read  more 
during  those  six  days  than  the  twenty  preceding.  I  believe 
my  sea-sickness  was  prevented  by  the  medicine  which  Dr. 
W.  prescribed ;  at  least  that  this  was  part  of  the  cause. 
The  passage  was  uncommonly  smooth.  I  believe  not  so 
much  as  a  tumbler  or  a  plate  started  from  its  place  by  the 
motion  of  the  vessel.  I  should  like  to  have  this  medicine 
tried  by  others  who  go  to  sea.     I  cannot  but  think,  that 


RETROSPECTION.  343 

in  many  cases  it  might  prevent  or  mitigate  the  horrors  of 
sea-sickness. 

Charleston,  S.  C,  Dec.  1, 1830. 
My  honored  Father,  [Mr.  Eaton,] — You  know  that 
my  health  has  always  been  rather  feeble,  and  that  for  sever- 
al years  I  have  been  more  especially  beset  with  infirmities. 
It  was  my  solemn  expectation,  that  long,  long  ago,  1  should 
have  been  called  to  the  world  of  retribution.     And  strange 
indeed  does  my  continuance  appear.     Through  how  many 
dangeis,  and  difficulties,  and  trials,  has  my  feeble  life  been 
preserved.     For   neatly  a  year  and  a  half,   my  diseases, 
three  or  four  in  number,  seem  to  have   been  more  alarm- 
ing ;  and  more  than  once  have  I  viewed  myself  on  the  very 
brink    of  the  grave.     Last    summer,  having  ridden    two 
hundred  miles  for  my  health,  under  circumstances  pecu- 
liarly favorable,  1  found  myself  much  worse,  and  to  appear- 
ance, rapidly  sinking.     It  was   indeed   most  deeply  dis- 
couraging,  that   the  best  remedy  I  had  ever  used,  should 
seem   only  to  aggravate  my   complaints.     I  was  then  at 
Bradford,  where  my  friends  persuaded   me  to  put  myself 
under  the  care  of  Dr.  W.     There  I  staid  more  than  a  fort- 
night, and  by    his  means,  my  diseases  seemed  to   be  in 
some   measure  checked.      Returning  to  Wethersfield,  I 
concluded,  that  the  danger  of  continuing  at  home,  would 
probably  be  greater   than  that  of  migration.     Soon  after 
forming  this  conclusion,  I   received  a  most  kind  and  gen- 
erous invitation    from  Rebecca,  to  come  and  take  up  my 
winter  quarters  with  her,  in  this  dear  city  of  refuge.     This 
invitation   was   as  comforting  as  it  was  unexpected.     It 
comforted  me  all  the  way  on  my  passage,  and  here  I  have 
been  taking  comfort  ever  since.     For  my  study,  (for  I  feel 
as  though  I  could  hardly   live  without  studying  some,)  I 
have  a  spacious  and  delightful  chamber.     Ilere  I  am  sur- 
rounded by  about  three  hundred  of  my  books,  which  make 
it  seem  almost  like  my  own  house.     Here   your  daughter 
seems  gratified  to  do  every  thing  in  her  power  for  my  con- 
venience and  health. 

And  now  I  feel  that  I  have  greater  reason  than  ever  to 
bless  God,  that  he  ever  sent  me  to  Framingham,  and  uni- 
ted me  to  your  family  by  an  alliance,  to  me  so  precious 
and  endearing.  Nor  was  I  disappointed  in  what,  I  had 
anticipated  as  the  choicest  boon  of  heaven.      Surely  a 


344  RETROSPECTION. 

sweeter,  lovelier  spirit  I  have  never  known,  nor  do  I  ever 
expect  to  know,  on  this  side  Paradise.  To  be  thus  inti- 
mately and  tenderly  allied  to  such  a  heavenly  and  heaven- 
born  soul,  to  feel  that  she  was  mine  in  the  highest  sense  that 
creatures  can  possess  any  thing  on  earth,  to  enjoy  her  ardent 
love,  her  perl'ect  confidence,  her  seraphic  smile,  was  an 
honor,  a  pleasure  far  above  my  desert.  Most  heartily  did 
I  bless  God  for  her — and  bless  him  still.  I  enjoyed  her  in 
life,  I  enjoyed  her  in  death,  1  have  enjoyed  her  since,  and 
hope  to  enjoy  her,  and  to  enjoy  her  more  and  more  to  all 
eternity.  She  seems  to  have  brought  heaven  nearer  to 
me,  and  I  do  hope  she  has  been  the  means,  in  some  de- 
gree, of  raising  me  toward  heaven.  From  time  to  time, 
she  seems  beckoning  and  calling  from  her  celestial  man- 
sion, "  Come  up  hither."  INone  but  the  Omniscient 
knows,  how  much,  how  fondly,  or  how  delightfully,  I  have 
thought  of  her,  since  she  took  her  upward  flight.  Com- 
paratively very  few  of  my  thoughts  of  her  have  been  other 
than  delightful.  It  is  astonishing,  indeed,  that  any  mortal 
should  derive  so  much  pleasure,  and  comparatively  so  little 
pain,  from  any  created  object.  Immortal  sister  of  my  soul ! 
I  will  not  bid  thee  farewell  ;  no,  my  lovely  celestial,  1  never 
will  dismiss  thee  from  my  heart.  My  meditations  of  her 
would  not  probably  have  been  so  sweet,  but  doubtless 
would  have  been  often  tinged  with  melancholy,  if  I  had 
remained  single — or  if  my  succeeding  connections  had  not 
been  happy.  And  even  now,  if  I  should  be  again  left  in 
widowed  solitude,  I  might  sometimes  be  found  mourning 
and  grieving  for  my  Nancy  and  Eleanor,  as  well  as  for  my 
Rebecca.  This  subject  presents  a  topic  of  metaphysics, 
with  which  some,  who  make  most  severe  and  cruel  re- 
marks, are  not  perfectly  acquainted.  Surely  it  is  not 
sound  logic  to  argue  my  disaffection  with  the  living,  from 
the  high  and  unmingled  satisfaction  which  I  find  in  medi- 
tating upon  the  dead.  The  very  reverse  should  be  the 
inference.  How  many  secrets  will  the  day  of  judgment 
declare — secrets  that  men  might  have  known,  had  they 
faithfully  improved  the  means. 

Dec.  2. — What  a  privilege,  that  we  may  love  one 
another  !  What  a  place  of  rapture  must  heaven  be  ! — an 
everlasting,  ever-increasing  banquet  of  love.  O  my  God, 
this  is  enough.  This  is  all  that  I  can  ask,  all  that  I  can 
wish,  all  that  I  can  conceive — and  infinitely  more. 


RETROSPECTION.  345 

I  have  once  written,  and  must  now  attempt  to  write 
again,  and  publish  as  soon  as  possible,  a  little  work  upon 
mental  improvement.  It  is  a  work  upon  which  my  heart 
has  been  greatly  set.  It  is  entitled  "  Questions  and  Sup- 
plement to  Watts  on  the  Improvement  of  the  Mind."  I 
have  sometimes  felt,  that  if  I  can  but  live  to  accomplish 
this  work,  I  can  adopt  the  words  of  good  old  Simeon  : 
"  Now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace."  And 
yet  I  desire  to  be  ready  and  willing  to  depart  whether  this 
work  is  accomplished  or  not;  and  sometimes  hope  I  am 
in  some  measure  prepared.  Within  a  few  months  1  have 
had  great  and  distressing  terrors  in  view  of  death.  O  it 
is  a  great  and  amazing  change,  to  exchange  worlds ;  to 
appear  before  infinite  Majesty  and  infinite  Purity,  in 
whose  sight  the  very  heavens  are  not  clean.  O  blessed 
Jesus,  thou,  thou  alone  art  my  Mediator  and  my  Interces- 
sor ;  in  thee  alone  have  I  righteousness  and  strength. 
Almighty  Shepherd,  I  will  fear  no  evil ;  though  I  pass 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  thy  rod  and  thy 
staff  they  shall  comfort  me. 

I  have  read  Susan's  generous  letter  to  E.  and  R.  with 
much  satisfaction.  I  rejoice  in  the  great  things,  that  the 
Lord  appears  to  be  doing  for  Framingham — that  the  Lord 
has  given  you  the  man  of  your  choice,  a  man,  as  I  trust, 
after  his  own  heart,  whom  he  appears  to  have  formed  and 
trained  on  purpose  for  that  dear  place,  where  my  heart  so 
delights  to  \isit,  and  to  linger  from  day  to  day — a  man,  in 
whose  welfare  and  success,  I  feel  so  deeply  interested. 
May  the  Lord  give  him  grace  to  be  faithful.  I  do  hope 
and  trust  that  a  large  remnant  will  be  saved  in  F.  Give 
my  most  affectionate  regards  to  father  K.  and  brother  T. 

And  now,  my  venerable  father,  we  are  going  the  way  of 
all  the  earth.  How  many  pleasant  and  endearing  hours 
have  1  spent  in  your  house,  at  your  table,  in  your  society. 
These  must  live  in  retrospection,  as  long  as  memory,  but 
we  can  hardly  expect  they  will  be  actually  renewed  on 
earth.  Shall  they  not  be  a  prelude  to  brighter,  holier 
hours  above,  in  our  Father's  house,  at  our  Father's  table — 
in  his  presence,  where  is  fulness  of  joy,  at  his  right  hand, 
where  are  pleasures  iorevermore. 

Most  affectionately  and  gratefully  yours, 

Jos cph  Emerson. 


346  HEATHEN    AND    SACRED 

It  has  long  been  known  to  many  of  my  brother's  friends 
that  he  was  opposed  to  the  extensive  study  of  the  heathen 
classics,  as  a  branch  of  public  education,  though  he  would 
have  a  few  scholars  well  versed  in  them,  for  particular  pur- 
poses. He  was  also  opposed  to  devoting  much  time  to 
Latin,  however  good  the  authors.  [See  his  letter  to  Dr. 
Humphrey,  Jan.  24,  1827.]  The  same  was  also  true  as  to 
the  higher  branches  of  mathematics,  at  least  in  some  de- 
gree. He  supposed  mental  discipline  not  the  main  thing 
to  be  sought  in  education  ;  and  if  it  were,  that  it  may  be 
better  attained  by  other  studies.  But  while  such  were  his 
views  of  the  inutility  of  heathen  literature,  he  was  yet  one 
of  the  most  ardent  advocates  for  the  study  of  the  scriptures 
in  their  original  languages.  Here,  in  his  view,  the  subject 
matter  makes  the  wide  distinction.  In  scripture,  the 
thoughts  and  shades  of  thought,  gained  from  the  originals, 
are  worth  all  the  toil  of  acquisition  ;  while  many  of  those 
from  heathen  works,  were,  in  his  view,  much  worse  than 
lumber  to  most  minds.  The  following  letter  to  his  son  at 
Amherst,  will  show  his  great  zeal  for  sacred  learning. 

Charleston,  S.  C.  Dec.  30,  1830. 

When  Cicero  was  asked,  which  of  Demosthenes  ora- 
tions was  the  best,  "  The  longest,"  said  he.  Your  longest 
letter  to  me,  I  think  the  best. 

I  am  much  pleased  with  the  feelings  and  logic,  with 
which  you  discuss  the  question  of  your  studying  Hebrew. 
The  positions,"'11'00  you  have  assumed,  do  by  no  means  ac- 
cord ™ith  my  views.  If  I  understand  you,  you  assume  the 
three  following  positions,  that  it  is  doubtful,  whether  you 
should  calculate  upon  entering  the  Theological  Seminary 
next  fall — whether  ever — and  whether  you  should  "  look 
forward  to  the  ministry."  Now,  I  have  not  the  shadow  of 
a  doubt  upon  either  of  these  three  points.  I  have  not  time 
nor  strength  to  argue  the  subject  in  detail.  O  that  I 
could  give  you  a  talk  of  two  hours.  1  can  now  only  sug- 
gest a  few  hints  for  your  most  serious,  intense,  and  de- 
vout consideration.  To  no  human  being,  perhaps,  are 
your  talents  better  known,  than  to  your  father.  I  have, 
also,  some  acquaintance  with  the  pastoral  office.  And  I 
do  believe,  that  you  may  be  useful,  in  this  high  and  holy 
calling.  It  will,  indeed,  cost  you  great  sacrifices,  vast 
efforts.     But  these,  I  trust,  you  are  prepared  most  freely 


LITERATURE.  347 

and  cheerfully  to  make,  if  you  can  be  fully  convinced, 
that  this  is  the  course  of  duty.  But  even  if  it  were  cer- 
tain, that  you  would  never  become  a  pastor,  I  should 
wish  by  all  means,  that  you  should  preach — that  you 
should  become,  to  the  utmost  of  your  powers  and  oppor- 
tunities, an  able,  zealous,  and  efficient  minister  of  the 
New  Testament.  It  will  tend  greatly  to  increase  your 
usefulness  in  whatever  business  you  may  laudably  engage. 
But  even  if  you  do  not  preach,  1  should  wish  you,  cer- 
tainly,   to   go   through — most   faithfully    and  thoroughly 

through — the  whole  course  at .     You  may  there  have 

opportunities  for  mental  improvement,  far  superior  to 
what  you  have  yet  had,  or  can  expect  to  have  elsewhere. 
Would  you  have  such  a  weight  of  knowledge,  improve- 
ment, and  character,  as  to  enable  you  to  do  good  by  whole- 
sale, by  all  means  go  to ,  and  there  improve  the 

best  literary,  religious,  and  social  privileges,  that  the 
whole  world  can  furnish.  And,  1  think  it  very  desirable, 
that  you  should  go,  as  soon  as  possible.  Fear  not.  God 
will  provide  the  means.  The  delay  of  a  year  may  prove 
an  incalculable  loss.  If  then  you  are  to  go,  you  must 
know  something  of  Hebrew,  before  entrance.  If  you  are 
to  go  next  autumn,  you  must  soon  know  something  of 
Hebrew.  Alas  !  my  son,  if  I  knew  you  would  not  be- 
come an student,  it  might  embitter  the  pangs  of 

my  dying  moments.  Why,  then,  should  you  not  improve 
the  opportunity  to  learn  Hebrew,  that  offers  at  college? 
Why  not  begin  immediately,  and  learn  as  much  as  pos- 
sible before  you  enter  at ?     I  wish  you   to  be  not 

merely  a  respectable  Hebrew  scholar,  compared  with 
your  classmates ;  but  I  wish  you  to  be  great  in  Hebrew, 
ten  times  greater,  than  is  absolutely  necessary  to  pass  un- 
censured  by  your  teachers.  O  that  you  could  read  the 
Hebrew  scriptures  through  and  through,  and  become  a 
deep  and  thorough  critic  in  that  sacred  language,  before 
you  commence  preaching.  I  fear  you  will  have  but  little 
time  to  study  it  afterwards.  Be  assured,  my  son,  as  I 
draw  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  grave,  and  I  hope  nearer 
and  nearer  to  heaven,  the  scriptures  appear  to  me  more 
and  more  comforting,  and  precious,  and  it  does  appear, 
more  and  more  desirable  to  know  the  exact  meaning  of  the 
words  of  inspiration,  that  we  neither  add  any  thing  to 
what  God  has  revealed,  nor  take  from  it.     Hence  it  ap- 


348  MATHEMATICS    AND    HEBREW 

pears  more  and  more  desirable,  that  those,  who  publicly 
teach  the  holy  oracles,  should  be  mighty  in  Hebrew,  and 
mightier  still  in  sawed  Greek. 

And  what  must  you  give  up  in  order  to  study  Hebrew 
at  college  ?  Fluxions.  And  what  to  you,  would  be  the 
use  of  knowing  fluxions  ?  Nothing — absolutely  nothing — 
less  than  nothing,  a  downright  incumbrance,  without 
even  occasional  utility.  And  what  is  the  advantage  of 
learning  fluxions?  Very  little,  if  any  thing.  Very  nice 
mathematical  acumen,  I  think  rather  an  injury,  than  a 
benefit,  in  reasoning  upon  other  subjects.  Newton  and 
Barrow  could  reason  well  upon  other  subjects ;  not,  I 
suppose,  by  means  of  their  vast  mathematics,  but  in  spite 
of  them  ;  by  the  rare  and  wonderful  powers  of  their  an- 
gelic minds.  A  little  of  mathematics,  like  a  little  salt, 
may  be  very  useful,  as  it  respects  mental  improvement 
in  general.  I  suspect  your  mind  is  already  sufficiently  sea- 
soned with  that  species  of  condiment,  to  last  you  as  long 
as  you  live.  If  you  could  honorably  avoid  it,  I  should 
never  wish  you  to  spend  another  day  in  mathematical 
studies.  But  after  studying  Hebrew  a  very  few  weeks, 
you  may  find  it  exceedingly  conducive  to  improve  your  fac- 
ulties, as  well  as  to  increase  your  richest  intellectual 
stores.  O  how  delightful,  how  highly  and  variously  bene- 
ficial, may  you  find  it  to  dig  and  dig  divine  treasures  from 
the  infinite  mine  of  the  bible! 

But,  my  beloved  son,  do  not  misunderstand  me.  1  am 
not  positively  enjoining  this  measure  upon  you,  as  a 
father,  but  most  earnestly  recommending  it  to  you,  as  a 
friend  to  your  improvement,  usefulness,  and  salvation.  If 
you  were  to  yield  a  servile,  or  simply  dutiful  compliance, 
it  would  not  be  what  I  wish.  I  wish  to  have  your  heart 
engaged,  your  energies  roused  to  the  highest  pitch.  I 
wish  you  to  gird  on  your  literary  armor,  and  march  against 
the  difficulties  of  the  Hebrew,  with  the  ardor  and  reso- 
lution of  Alexander,  marching  against  the  Persians.  Be 
assured  you  will  immediately  pass  the  Granicus,  that  will 
seem  but  a  little  rill  that  you  can  almost  step  over;  soon 
you  will  gain  the  victory  of  Issus  ;  and  ere  long  you  will  be 
prepared  to  make  mighty  inroads  upon  old  Mystery,  Baby- 
lon herself.  O,  if  my  soul  were  in  your  soul's  stead, 
united  with  a  body,  youthful,  healthy,  and  vigorous,  as 
yours,  how  would  I  seize  upon  the  Hebrew,  resolving  by 


HEALTH — SCRIPTURES CLASSICS.  349 

divine  assistance,  that  in  three  years,  I   would  make   it 
seem  almost  like  our  own  vernacular. 

Charleston,  Jan.  17,  1831. 

My  dear  Daughter  N. — For  about  six  weeks  after 
my  arrival,  the  weather  was  very  warm ;  but  the  atmos- 
phere was  so  unhealthy,  that  I  was  almost  wholly  confined 
to  my  chamber:  and  did  by  no  means  recover  that  de- 
gree of  vigor  that  otherwise  1  might.  I  was  fondly  antici- 
pating a  little  frosty  weather,  to  purify  the  air,  and  open 
the  door  of  my  prison.  But  when  the  cold  did  come,  it 
came  like  a  strong  man  armed,  whose  dreadful  stroke 
seemed  almost  death  to  me.  It  has  since  been  either 
very  cold  or  very  wet,  almost  the  whole  time,  and  I  have 
been  more  closely  confined  than  before.  Sometimes,  in- 
deed, "  the  important  die  of  life  and  death  spun  doubt- 
ful. "  Nor  do  I  feel,  that  it  has  yet  "  turned  up  life," 
though  the  tendency  to  life  seems  a  little  increased.  I 
hope,  I  am  generally  enabled  to  adopt  the  language  of 
David,  2  Sam.  15:  26.  1  find  great  comfort  in  the  scrip- 
tures, especially  the  psalms.  It  does  seem  sometimes,  as 
though  I  was  reading  a  new  edition  of  that  book,  greatly 
improved  by  the  Author.  O  what  a  treasure !  what  a 
glory !  what  glories  and  glories  are  there  displayed ! 
Isaiah  too  appears  equally  improved.  O  how  much  does 
many  a  christian  lose  by  not  understanding,  or  not  duly 
considering  these  wonderful,  wonderful  portions  of  the 
divine  word  ! 

The  increased  relish  for  the  scriptures,  that  I  have  re- 
cently felt,  I  do  not  impute  wholly,  (perhaps  I  ought  not 
to  impute  it  even  partly,)  to  improvement  of  my  spiritual 
state  ;  but  rather  to  my  course  of  pursuits  for  two  or  three 
years,  particularly  in  attending  to  hermeneutics,  reading 
the  memoir  and  sermons  of  Payson,  the  orations  ofGrimke, 
etc.  And  now,  my  daughter,  is  it  not  exceedingly  desir- 
able, that  the  course  of  education  should  be  such  as  to  give 
the  pupil  a  relish  for  the  intellectual  and  spiritual  food  that 
inspiration  has  provided  ?  Must  we  not  write  Tekel  upon 
most  of  our  literary  institutions,  when  weighed  in  this 
balance  ?  That  system  of  education  which  leads  the  ar- 
dent youth  to  love  and  admire  such  characters  as  Venus, 
and  iEneas,  I  cannot  but  view  with  increasing  horror, 
detestation,  and  grief.  And  here  let  me  ask,  may  it  not 
30 


350  DYSPEPSY LECTURES. 

be  better,  much  better,  for  yourself  and  your  pupils,  for 
you  to  teach  them  the  Night-Thoughts  and  the  Course  of 
Time  than  geometry  ?  Even  for  intellectual  imrpovement, 
I  consider  hermeneutics  better  than  geometry  ;  and  for 
knowledge,  ten  times  better  ;  and  for  heaven,  a  thousand 
times  better.  Will  not  your  pupils  and  their  friends  consent  ? 
I  have  been  reading  Mr.  HaJstead's  book  upon  dyspep- 
sy.  I  have  practised  his  remedy  a  little ;  but  have  not 
yet  had  time  to  form  much  opinion  with  regard  to  its  ef- 
ficacy. I  scarcely  dare  to  indulge  a  hope,  that  this  dis- 
ease of  diseases  will,  in  my  case,  ever  be  materially  mit- 
igated. It  is  true,  indeed,  I  am  now  able  to  take  an 
ounce  or  two  of  meat  every  day,  without  injury.  But  it 
is  in  consequence  of  taking  medicine,  which,  I  fear 
is  hastening  me  to  the  grave.  Our  spiritual  bodies  will 
not  be  dyspeptic. — Alfred  entered  Y.  Col.  last  commence- 
ment. I  have  sent  for  him  to  see  me  die,  or  help  me  to  re- 
turn— I  hope  the  latter.  I  am  much  pleased  to  learn,  that 
he  is  willing  to  come.     I  expect  him  in  a  few  days. 

About  the  first  of  February,  he  was  much  comforted  by 
the  arrival  of  his  son  ;  who  continued  with  him  till  May. 
In  March,  he  had  so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  com- 
mence a  course  of  lectures  on  history. 

Charleston.  June  15,  1831. 

My  beloved  Daughter  N. — I  have  been  so  much 
occupied  in  preparing  and  delivering  my  historical  lec- 
tures, that  I  have  scarcely  written  a  line  to  any  one  for 
months.  To  be  able  to  return  again  to  the  business  of 
instruction — business  so  delightful  and  profitable,  seems 
like  life  from  the  dead.  My  little  circle  of  attendants 
have  been  much  interested,  and  I  hope  profited.  Not- 
withstanding my  age  and  infirmities,  I  have  lately  made 
considerable  advance  in  the  knowledge  of  history,  and  I 
trust,  some  in  the  precious,  precious  art  of  talking.  While 
you  live,  my  daughter,  be  continually  pressing  onward 
and  pressing  upward  in  knowledge,  understanding  and 
well-doing.  I  am  more  and  more  encouraged  to  hope, 
that  my  method  of  historical  instruction,  will  prove  an 
important  and  permanent  blessing  to  the  world.  To- 
morrow, 1  expect  to  deliver  the  closing  lecture,  making 
the  whole  number  thirty-three.     The  system  freely  admits 


RESIDENCE    AT    CHARLESTON.  351 

the  number  of  lectures  to  vary  indefinitely.  In  about  ten 
or  fifteen  days,  [  expect  to  arrive  at  New  York.  The 
last  three  months  have  been  among  the  happiest  of  my 
life. 

-As  proposed  above,  he  soon  sailed  for  New-York,  and 
enjoyed  '  the  most  agreeable  passage  he  ever  had.'  In  a 
few  days  more,  he  reached  his  home  in  safety. 

The  following,  from  Miss  R.  Eaton,  now  of  Philadel- 
phia, will  cast  further  light  on  his  character  and  efforts, 
during  the  second  and  third  periods  of  his  residence  in 
Charleston. 

Philadelphia,  Dec.  1838. 

Dear  Sir, — Most  gladly  would  I  furnish  any  documents 
in  my  power,  which  might  in  any  degree  aid  in  preparing 
the  memoir  of  one,  whose  memory  is  so  dear,  whose  life 
was  so  useful. 

In  regard  to  what  Mr.  Emerson  did  in  Charleston,  1 
fear  I  shall  not  be  able  to  furnish  any  thing  that  will  be  of 
use.  The  first  winter  he  spent  in  C,  was  previous  to  my 
having  any  acquaintance  at  the  South.  Of  course  I  knew 
but  little  about  what  he  did  at  that  time.  The  second 
time,  I  went  with  him,  and  continued  in  Charleston  dur- 
ing his  stay  there.  For  a  few  weeks  after  his  arrival,  he 
seemed  depressed  in  spirits,  very  feeble,  and  able  to  do 
but  little.  He  soon,  however,  began  to  be  useful  in  the 
family  where  he  boarded,  making  efforts  for  their  improve- 
ment, and  directing  their  attention  to  the  study  of  the 
bible.  They  appeared  to  regard  him  as  a  father  and  a 
friend  ;  one,  in  whose  counsels  they  might  confide  with 
safety. 

During  the  same  winter,  he  delivered  a  course  of  lec- 
tures on  astronomy.  The  class  were  exceedingly  interest- 
ed with  the  instructions  they  received,  and  the  manner  in 
which  they  were  communicated.  The  facts  were  plainly 
detailed,  the  illustrations  clear,  and  the  flights  of  imagina- 
tion, chaste  and  natural.  lie  was  so  well  understood,  that 
correct  and  clear  conceptions  were  formed  in  the  minds  of 
those  who  were  comparatively  children.  The  mind  was 
not  confined  to  some  faint  emblem  of  the  objects  described; 
but  carried  beyond  the  confines  of  earth,  and  introduced 
to  the  celestial  regions.  With  him  to  lead  the  imagina- 
tion, we  could  with  seeming  ease,  fly  beyond  the  solar  sys- 


352 


RESIDENCE 


tem,  and  behold  the  unstained  beauty  and  glory  of  other 
suns  and  other  worlds.  We  forgot  our  teacher.  We  for- 
got our  earth.  We  forgot  ourselves  We  were  lost  in 
contemplating  the  harmony,  the  variety,  the  beauty,  the 
grandeur  of  celestial  objects.  Nor  would  he  allow  us  to 
stop  here ;  but  carried  the  mind  onward  and  onward,  and 
led  us,  with  ever-growing  delight,  to  contemplate  the  Au- 
thor of  this  amazing  grandeur. 

During  the  same  winter,  he  instructed  two  classes  of 
ladies.  One  of  them  consisted  of  more  than  thirty  mem- 
bers. Many  were  among  the  most  pious,  intelligent,  and 
respectable  ladies  in  Charleston.  As  usual,  he  succeeded 
in  gaining  the  highest  confidence,  respect,  and  affections 
of  his  pupils.  Watts  on  the  Mind  was  the  book  studied; 
though  the  instructions  were  by  no  means  confined  to  that 
work.  This  class  I  had  not  the  privilege  of  attending. 
But  so  far  as  I  was  able  to  judge,  I  think  his  instructions 
had  an  important  bearing  on  the  hearts  and  lives  of  his 
pupils.  He  succeeded  in  giving  an  impulse  to  the  mind, 
and  shewing  the  connection  between  intellectual  and 
moral  culture. 

When  he  last  visited  Charleston,  you  may  be  aware  that 
I  had  the  privilege  of  receiving  him  into  my  own  hired 
house.  And,  indeed,  it  was  a  privilege,  for  which,  I  trust 
I  shall  ever  have  cause  to  be  thankful.  The  extreme 
nervous  debility,  with  which  he  was  afflicted  for  a  number 
of  weeks,  was  the  cause  of  some  mental  excitement,  and 
much  bodily  suffering.  Yet  his  path  seemed  eminently 
that  of  the  just,  and  his  light  to  shine  more  and  more. 
Indeed,  the  moral  atmosphere  around,  seemed  illuminated 
with  his  instructive  and  heavenly  conversation.  His  hu- 
mility, his  tenderness  of  conscience,  his  gratitude,  his  sin- 
cerity, his  untiring  efforts  to  impart  instruction,  could 
hardly  escape  the  observation  of  the  most  thoughtless. 
Heaven  seemed  the  grand  centre,  around  which  his 
thoughts  clustered  from  day  to  day.  It  was  not  this,  but 
the  coming  world,  that  he  regarded  as  his  home.  To  that 
he  seemed  to  look  forward  with  living  faith.  While  Mr. 
Evarts*  was  on  his  dying  bed,  he  remarked  to  him,  that 

*  It  will  be  recollected  that  Mr.  Evarts  died  at  Charleston,  at  this  period, 
*«)  his  way  home  from  the  West  Indies.  My  brother  had  long  been  famil- 
iar with  him. 


AT    CHARLESTON.  353 

those,  whom  he  considered  near  heaven,  were  peculiarly 
dear  to  him. 

He  had  many  friends  in  Charleston.  They  respected 
him,  loved  him,  and  delighted  to  hang  on  his  lips  to  re- 
ceive instruction.  Among  these,  he  exerted  an  extensive 
and  happy  influence  ;  an  influence  calculated  to  elevate 
the  mind,  to  improve  the  heart,  to  enlist  their  intellectual 
powers  in  the  service  of  Christ.  When  I  mentioned  his 
death  to  Dr.  M.,  he  seemed  affected  with  the  event.  But 
apparently  suppressing  the  rising  emotion  of  tenderness, 
he  said,  "  I  never  was  in  Mr.  Emerson's  society  one  min- 
ute without  being  benefitted."  Considering  the  character 
of  Dr.  M.,  and  that  for  eight  months  they  were  so  situated 
as  to  see  each  other  almost  every  day,  I  think  the  remark 
must  be  regarded  as  a  very  high  encomium. 

A  course  of  historical  lectures  finished  his  labors  in 
Charleston.  Owing  to  some  religious  excitement  at  that 
time,  they  were  not  so  well  attended  as  might  have  been 
expected.  Yet  a  very  considerable  number  did  attend, 
whose  expectations  were,  I  believe,  more  than  realized. 
They  felt  that  the  lectures  were  richly  fraught  with  in- 
struction. His  manner  was  peculiarly  acceptable.  He 
threw  his  whole  soul  into  the  subject.  A  delightful  glow 
of  imagination  thrilled  through  the  course.  The  facts 
were  interesting  and  obviously  important.  He  had  much 
interesting  detail,  much  of  the  marrow  of  history.  The 
whole  course  was  calculated  to  evince  the  importance  of 
historical  knowledge,  and  it  was  truly  delightful  to  follow 
him  "  down  the  tide  of  time." 

Thus  I  have  endeavored  to  state  a  k\v  particulars  rela- 
tive to  our  dear  brother  while  in  Charleston.  This  I  have 
rather  done,  because  1  love  to  dwell  on  departed  worth, 
than  because  \  think  it  will  be  of  use.  But  such  as  it  is, 
in  compliance  with  your  request,  I  send  it. 
Very  respectfully  yours, 

Rebecca  Eaton. 


30* 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


from    his    return    to    wethersfield,    to    his    last 
sickness.     1831—1833. 

Visits  Ms. — Lectures  on  the  English  poets — On  Pollok 
— On  reading — Depression  succeeded  by  enjoyment — 
Returns  to  Wethersfield — Infant  baptism — Pulpit  elo- 
quence— Questions  on  Watts — On  Goodrich's  His- 
tory  of  U.  S. —  Views  of  man's  poiver,  dependence, 
etc. — Philosophy  of  religion — Visits  Boston — Excur- 
sions from  Boston — Council  at  Providence — Address 
at  Beverly,  July  4th — Returns  to  Wethersfield — In- 
creasing maladies — Office  of  deacon — On  teaching  chil- 
dren to  sing — Daily  concert — Immediate  repentance. 

Wethersfield,  July  3, 1831. 

My  dear  Son  L. — You  will  rejoice  to  learn  that  your 
feeble  father  has  once  more  returned  to  our  beloved  home. 
I  arrived  five  days  ago,  ten  days  after  I  left  Charleston, 
having  staid  three  days  in  New  York.  Never  before  did 
I  have  such  a  joyous  meeting  with  my  family.  To  find 
myself  again  safely  returned  after  so  long  an  absence — to 
find  my  dear  connections  in  health  and  prosperity — to  find 
considerable  religious  attention  in  the  parish  and  in  the 
Seminary — to  find  E.  giving  some  evidence  of  having 
passed  from  death  unto  life — all  this  was  more  than  I  had 
presumed  to  hope.  It  was  almost  overwhelming.  My 
rapture  seemed  a  pleasing  dream.  O  magnify  the  Lord 
with  me,  and  let  us  exalt  his  name  together. 

I  hope  my  health  has  on  the  whole  improved  a  little,, 
though,  I  fear,  but  little.  Rejoice,  O  young  man  in  thy 
strength,  and  be  thankful  to  God,  for  any  strength  to  serve 
him.  Languor,  languor,  languor — almost  continually 
sinks  my  spirits.  How  blessed  is  the  heavenly  state — a 
state  of  unceasing  and  ever-rising  vigor,  where  we  shall 
need  no  rest. 


VISITS    MISS    G — *S    SCHOOL.  355r 

In  October,  after  visiting  bis  pbysician  Dr.  Whiting, 
and  other  friends,  in  Ms.,  we  find  my  brother  among  his 
former  peq)le  at  Beverly. 

TO    HIS    WIFE. 

Beverly,  Oct.  20,  1831. 

After  much  doubt  and  deliberation,  I  came  to  this 
dwelling-place  of  our  numerous  friends,  several  days  ago. 
I  have  already  staid  longer  than  I  intended.  I  cannot  but 
hope,  that  my  visit  here  has  conduced,  and  is  conducing, 
both  to  my  health  and  usefulness.  I  have  often  met  my 
friends  in  clusters,  at  the  places  of  my  lodging.  I  have  spent 
almost  every  evening  here  with  these  dear  little  companies 
in  conversation  and  prayer,  in  which  they  take  so  large  a 
part  as  not  to  render  it  fatiguing  to  me.  1  have  preached 
once  in  the  meeting-house.  I  am  more  pleased  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  O.  than  ever ;  in  whose  bright  and  brightening 
prospects,  I  exceedingly  rejoice.  I.  T.  two  days  ago, 
carried  me  to  Ipswich,  where  I  witnessed  the  closing  scene 
of  Miss  Grant's  school.  I  said  a  few  words  to  them, 
After  I  came  out,  I  met  with  Mr.  T.  of  New  York,  one 
of  the  greatest  charity-merchants  in  the  world.  "I  am 
glad,"  said  he,  with  all  the  apparent  cordiality  of  an  old 
friend,  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  talk  to  your  grand  chil- 
dren :"  though  I  had  only  addressed  them  as  the  pupils  of 
my  pupils,  lie  lias  several  children,  and  appears  to  have 
adopted  our  views  of  education,  and  perhaps  has  gone 
beyond  us,  as  it  respects  religion,  industry,  etc.  He  gave 
me  an  earnest  invitation  to  spend  a  week  with  him,  add- 
ing very  pleasantly,  "I  think,  you  will  talk  enough  to  pay 
for  your  board." 

Beverly,  Nov.  4,  1831. 

Often  my  heart  returns  to  my  dear  habitation  and  dearer 
family.  But  I  am  bound  here,  at  least  for  a  few  days 
longer. 

The  experiment  of  reading  Pollok's  Course  of  Time  to 
a  select  company,  appears  to  succeed  beyond  my  hopes. 
Such  deep,  earnest,  solemn  attention  to  reading  and  expo- 
sition, for  an  hour  and  three  quarters,  without  intermis- 
sion, is  more  than  I  had  reason  to  expect,  even  from  our 
dear  Beverly  friends.  I  have  now  finished  six  books  of 
this  admirable,  wonderful  poem,  a  book  at  each  lecture. 


356  LECTURES    ON    THE 

It  may  not  be  easy  for  such  as  never  attended  my  broth- 
er's school,  nor  heard  him  lecture,  to  imagine  with  what 
delightful  enthusiasm  he  would  enter  on  the  execution  of 
an  original  scheme,  like  the  one  just  mentioned,  the 
expository  reading  of  a  favorite  poet  to  such  a  company. 
The  course  was  heard  with  a  corresponding  delight  by  his 
auditors.  And  well  might  the  joy  be  mutual  and  pecu- 
liar ;  for  he  was  at  home  in  his  subject,  and  at  home 
amid  all  the  best  associations  of  the  heart,  while  they,  a 
choice  portion  of  his  former  flock,  were  eagerly  listening 
to  the  voice  that  had  taught  their  childhood  and  prompted 
their  growing  years. 

This  course  of  expository  reading,  was  prefaced  by  an 
introductory  lecture  on  "The  Course  of  Time,"  in  which 
he  briefly  gave  his  views  of  the  nature  of  poetry,  together 
with  a  comparison  of  his  favorite  English  poets.  The 
lecture  was  partly  extempore.  I  annex  a  part  of  the  notes 
he  used.  In  most  cases,  the  reader  will  readily  see  where 
he  spoke  extempore. 

INTRODUCTORY  LECTURES  ON  THE  COURSE  OF  TIME. 

We  come  hither,  most  dear  and  respected  Friends,  to 
speak  and  hear  and  meditate  upon  time.  Upon  this  sub- 
ject, much  has  been  written,  and  more  has  been  said. 
Could  all  be  now  printed,  and  brought  to  this  place,  I  do 
not  believe,  that  this  spacious  edifice  would  contain  half 
the  books  that  would  be  thus  accumulated.  But  still  the 
subject  is  not  exhausted. 

We  have  it  in  prospect  to  devote  a  social  hour,  from 
day  to  day,  in  taking  a  more  intense  and  solemn  and  phi- 
losophic view  of  the  ways  of  time,  and  of  the  importance  of 
time,  than  has  been  our  custom.  To  aid  us  in  this,  one 
now  offers  his  assistance,  who  has  been  our  fellow  traveller 
in  the  same  way — one,  who  has  travelled  fast  and  travelled 
far,  though  we  cannot  say,  has  travelled  long.  He  began 
his  career  after  some  of  us.  Nay,  some  of  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  some  of  us,  commenced  before  him.  But 
he  pressed  forward.  He  mounted,  as  on  eagles'  wings. 
He  has  soared  above  the  stars.  Pollok,  though  dead,  yet 
speaks.  In  thoughts  that  glow,  in  words  that  burn,  in 
sentences  of  love,  in  lines  of  fire,  he  calls  us  to  the  skies. 
Let  us  gladly  and  devoutly  hail  the  heaven-lighted  lamp, 


ENGLISH    POETS.  357 

that  he  has  left  to  lighten  and  to  cheer  our  path.  Shall 
we  not  hail  it  as  a  pillar  of  fire,  that  God  has  erected  by 
this  wondrous  bard,  to  lead  us  upward  to  the  heavenly 
Canaan  I  Though  to  Egyptians,  and  perhaps,  to  some 
Israelites  indeed,  it  may  appear  but  as  a  cloudy  pillar,  as 
darkness  visible,  may  we  not  regard  it  as  the  morning 
star  ? 

The  Course  of  Time  is  a  poem ;  and  to  be  able  to  esti- 
mate and  improve  it,  as  such,  we  must  have  some  acquaint- 
ance with  the  nature  of  poetry.  And  if  we  would  judge 
whether  it  deserves  to  be  ranked  among  the  great  poems 
that  have  long  instructed  and  delighted  the  most  refined 
and  excellent  portion  of  the  English  world,  we  must  com- 
pare it  with  others  which  it  most  resembles.  I  think  the 
poems  in  our  language  with  which  the  Course  of  Time 
may  be  most  fitly  compared,  are  the  Paradise  Lost,  Night 
Thoughts,  the  Seasons,  and  the  Task.  To  prepare  our 
minds  for  the  Course  of  Time,  then,  it  may  be  useful  in 
the  first  place,  to  consider  the  nature  of  poetry,  and  then 
pay  some  attention  to  these  great  poems. 

Here  my  brother  goes  into  an  extended  discussion  of  the 
nature  of  poetry,  and  of  various  definitions  that  have  been 
given  of  it.  But  we  have  only  room  for  his  main  posi- 
tions, which  are  as  follows. 

To  determine  what  poetry  is,  he  remarks,  is  only  to  de- 
termine what  is  generally  understood  by  the  word.  The 
word  has  two  meanings;  one  of  them,  however,  includes 
the  other.  First,  a  metrical  composition  of  words,  which 
is  the  most  common  meaning.  Secondly ;  poetry,  in  the 
highest  sense,  is  a  metrical  composition  of  words  particu- 
larlfi  snitid  to  affect  the  emotions. 

To  this  definition  it  may  be  objected,  that  it  will  make 
poetry  relative. 

But  does  this  overthrow  the  definition  ?  Because  a 
thing  is  relative,  is  it  therefore  nothing  1 What  is  med- 
icine ? food  ? 

To  illustrate  my  meaning  I  will  state  a  fact,  with  which 
I  was  acquainted.  A  little  boy  was  in  a  garden,  with  his 
mother,  examining  flowers — a  practice  which,  I  think, 
may  sometimes  be  better  than  to  be  continually  poring  and 
dozing  over  books.     "  O  Ma  !"   said   the  little  botanist, 


358  LECTURES    ON    THE 

what  a  beautiful  flower  is  here!  and  how  sweet  it  smells." 
[Extemporizes.]  • 

And  now  to  apply  the  comparison.  We  will  take  the 
Course  of  Time,  for  example.  Though  many  may  con- 
sider it  as  a  most  unsavory  and  soporific  flower,  it  is  sweet 
to  me. — And  though  all  the   world  should  so  consider  it, 

still  I  must  say,   "  it  is   sweet  to  me." Perhaps  to  no 

two  persons  exactly  alike. Is  there  then  no  standard  ? 

I  think   there  is  a  general   standard,  though  it  cannot  be 

precisely  ascertained. Some    compositions   universally 

acknowledged. Milton's  speech  of  Moloch — Young's 

address  to  the  inhabitants  of  another  world — Thomson's 
Lavinia — Cowper's  Pulpit — Pope's  Messiah  and  Dying 
Christian — Goldsmith's  Village  Preacher  and  Schoolmas- 
ter—  Campbell's  IJohenlinden — Marsden's  Time — Watts' 
School  of  Morality — Byron's  Darkness — Tappan's  Mis- 
sionaries' Farewell — and  hundreds  more. 

Let  us  now  attend  to  some  of  the   characteristics  and 

specimens  of  the  four  great  poems  above  mentioned. 

In  length  they  do  not  differ  very  greatly  from  the  Course 
of  time. 

John  Milton  was  born  in  London,  1608.     Distinguished 

for  his  beauty,  learning,  and  republicanism. Published 

Paradise  Lost   in  KiG7,  when  he  was  fifty-nine  years  old. 

Like  Homer   and  Virgil,  he    begins    in    the    middle. 

Having  begun  at  the  centre,  and  swept  his  circumference 
round  and  round,  he  leaves  off  where  he  began. 

Paradise  Lost  seems  to  be  chiefly  distinguished  on  three 
accounts,  learning,  originality,  sublimity. And  proba- 
bly of  all  poems  now  in  existence,  this  is  the  most  learned, 

the  most  original,  and  the  most  sublime. Indeed,  his 

descriptions  of  heaven  and  hell,  of  their  inhabitants,  of  the 
amazing  scenes  supposed  to  have  been  there  transacted, 
and  especially  the  speeches  ascribed  to  the  celestials  and 
the  infernals,  probably  surpass  every  other  human  produc- 
tion in  point  of  invention,  and  in  point  of  sublimity.  It 
was  these  descriptions,  that,  in   my  childhood,  awakened 

feelings,  and  energies,  and  raptures,  unknown  before. 

Here  the  poet  seems  a  volcano,  pouring  forth  floods  of  fire, 
shaking  nature  to  her  centre,  shaking  earth  and  heaven — 
all  but  the  throne  of  God.  It  must  indeed  be  confessed, 
that  sometimes  he  seems  extinguished ;  his  thunderings 


ENGLISH    POETS.  359 

are  hushed  ;  and  we  see  nothing  but  the  dark  lava,  the 
cinders,  and  the  ashes.  But  he  is  still  a  great  moun- 
tain. 

But  sublimity  and  originality,  though  the  chief  glories  of 
this  amazing  poem,  are  not  the  whole.  He  dips  his  pen- 
cil in  heavenly  fountains,  and  gives  us  pictures  scarcely 
less  beautiful  than  others  are  grand.  He  can  paint  the 
dew-drop,  and  show  us  the  humble  violet  in  all  its  brillian- 
cy, in  all  its  humble  loveliness,  as  well  us  the  battle-field 
of  heaven,  convulsed  with  warring  angels,  blazing  and 
smoking  with  the  artillery  of  satan,  and  tempestuous  with 

flying   mountains. Very    unequal. Nor    less   than 

arch-angel  ruined,   and  his  glory  obscured. In   some 

respects  dangerous. 

Young. — To  this  great  and  venerable  bard,  I  can  say, 
Hail  thou  dear  companion  of  my  early  youth,  most  faith- 
ful counsellor  of  my  advancing  days — precious,  invaluable 
friend,  for  more  than  twenty — more  than  thirty  summers 
ripening  by  my  side — balm  of  my  sorrows,  pillow  of  my 
weary,  throbbing  head — sweetener  of  my  sweetest  joys. 
Some  have  considered  him  too  dark,  too  dismal,  too 
gloomy.  Dark  and  dismal,  indeed,  are  many  of  his  pic- 
tures ;  but  I  think  not  more  so  than  their  originals.  If 
so,  we  should  not  blame  the  painter  but  the  subjects. 
But  even  granting  that  the  darkness  of  his  grief  has  ad- 
ded some  shades  of  horror  to  his  portraits,  his  redeeming 
pictures  are  most  glorious.  What  other  pencil  has  given 
us  such  paintings  of  the  cross?  of  the  beauties  of  Im- 
manuel  and  the  glories  of  salvation? 

To  me,  the  Night  Thoughts  is  a  poem,  on  the  whole, 
most  animating  and  delightful — amazingly  energetic — full 
of  the  richest  instruction — improving  to  the  mind — much 
of  it  worthy  of  being  committed  to  memory — some  faults 
— some  passages  unfit  to  be  read — obscure — extravagant 
— tinged  occasionally  with  flattery. 

Thomson. —  Thomson  may  be  regarded  as  the  great 
painter  of  nature's  scenery  and  nature's  joys.  From  his 
exquisite  delineations,  day  unto  day  uttereth  knowledge. 
Touched  by  his  more  than  magic  pencil,  every  thing 
around  us  lives,  and  breathes,  and  speaks — speaks  forth 
its  Creator's  praise;  the  little  hills  rejoice  on  every  side  ; 
the  trees  of  the  field  clap  their  hands,  and  all  creation 
joins  in  one  general  song. 


360  READING    LECTURES,    ETC. 

Like  all  others,  Thomson  had  his  faults.  Many,  very 
many  of  his  lines,  have  little  merit;  and  a  very  consider- 
able number  are  dry,  cold,  dull,  not  to  say  dark. — Per- 
haps not  one  ray  of  gospel  light,  reflected  from  his  pages. 

Cowper. — We  are  so  in  love  with  Cowper,  we  sympa- 
thise with  him  so  deeply,  that  we  can  hardly  have  a  heart 
to  criticise. — Of  all  the  poets,  he  and  Watts  seem  to  be 
the  loveliest  of  the  lovely.  Of  him,  I  will  say  as  he  says 
of  his  dear  Old  England,  Cowper,  with  all  thy  faults,  I 
love  thee  still.  Faults  he  has,  alas,  too  many  faults,  too 
great;  faults  that  I  would  gladly  hide,  but  dare  not.  The 
title  of  his  great  poem  seems  most  unhappy — Task — and 
the  subject,  if  possible,  more  unhappy  still — Sofa. — Much 
of  the  task  seems  to  me  little  better  than  trash — and  yet 
much  of  it  is  most  noble. 

After  this  course,  my  brother  gave  two  or  three  public 
lectures  on  reading. 

Beverly,  Nov.  9,  1831. 

My  dearest  Companion, — My  reading  lectures,  I  ex- 
pect to  finish  to-morrow  ;  and  then  to  be  engaged  four 
evenings  in  a  week,  with  my  class  of  readers,  from  thir- 
teen years  old  to  fifty.  My  business  is  of  the  most  pleas- 
ant kind,  and  seems  to  be  just  enough  for  the  promotion 
of  my  health. 

Boston,  Dec.  5,1831. 

My  beloved  Daughter  N. — "  I  am  the  man  that 
hath  seen  affliction  by  the  rod  of  his  wrath.  He  hath  led 
me  and  brought  me  into  darkness."  Shall  1  add,  "and 
not  into  light"  ?  No,  I  cannot.  Blessed  be  his  name, 
I  trust  he  has  brought  me  into  marvellous  light — and 
made  the  night  to  be  light  about  me.  He  has  loosed 
the  very  bands  of  death,  and  kept  me  from  that  hell  of 
which  I  had  just  felt  myself  so  deeply  deserving.  He 
has  brought  me  back  from  my  city  of  refuge,  to  rejoice 
with  my  family,  and  especially  to  rejoice  in  the  second 
birth  of  a  most  precious  child.  He  has  enabled  me  to 
make  a  visit  to  our  dear,  dear  friends  at  Beverly,  a  visit 
far  more  interesting  and  delightful  than  I  had  dared  to 
ask,  or  think,  or  hope.  O  with  what  eyes,  with  what 
smiles,  with  what   hands    with  what  hearts,  with    what 


RELIGIOUS    FEELINGS.  361 

words,  did  they  meet  the  feeble  remnant  of  him  they  once 
honored  as  their  minister  so  much  above  his  deserving! 
At  more  than  thirty  meetings,  I  was  permitted  to  be 
present  with  more  or  less  of  them,  publicly,  and  from 
house  to  house,  to  unite  in  their  devotions,  and  I  hope, 
to  say  something  to  increase  their  knowledge,  to  confirm 
their  faith,  to  slir  them  up  to  duty,  to  help  them  forward 
in  the  narrow  way.  It  did  seem  as  though  the  Lord 
strengthened  me  for  the  blessed  work,  and  every  day 
anointed  my  soul  with  the  oil  of  gladness.  I  know  that 
I  am  in  danger  of  being  puffed  up  by  such  special,  un- 
expected, surprising  mercies.  May  I  be  disposed  to  give 
Him  all  the  glory. 

I  scarcely  had  a  sharper  pang  at  Beverly,  than  those 
occasioned  by  the  report  of  your  indisposition,  especially, 
that  of  your  eyes.  But  even  under  this  trial,  I  hope,  I 
had  something  more  than  patience — that  I  could  rejoice 
in  believing  that  God  was  preparing  you  fast  for  heaven, 
by  the  things  you  were  suffering.  My  dear  child,  and 
dearer  sister,  do  you  not  dare  to  indulge  a  hope,  that  it  is 
really  so?  And  yet,  my  heart's  desire  and  prayer  to  God 
for  you,  is,  not  only  that  he  will  save  you  at  last,  but  that 
he  will  spare  you  a  little,  that  you  may  recover  strength 
before  you  go  hence — that  you  may  live,  and  do  some- 
thing— do  much  to  bring  on  that  day  of  which  you  have 
heard  so  much,  and  so  much  delighted  to  hear. 

In  the  mean  time,  let  me  entreat  you  to  do  all  in  your 
power  to  preserve  and  improve  your  precious  health,  and 
to  save  the  more  precious  souls  of  your  sister  and  younger 
brothers.  O  that  these  dear  boys,  as  well  as  their  elder 
brothers,  may  be  ministers  of  the  gospel,  burning  and 
shining  lights  to  warm  and  enlighten  the  frozen  darkness 
of  this  wretched  world.  O  it  is  Christ's  world.  He  has 
made,  preserved,  and  redeemed  it;  and  soon,  very  soon, 
it  must  be  rescued  and  emancipated  from  its  tyrannic 
usurper,  and  restored  to  its  rightful  possessor.     Ps.  2. 

From  some  expressions  in  the  above  letter,  and  from 
others  of  previous  date,  the  reader  may  have  been  led  to 
a  part  of  the  truth  respecting  the  distressing  apprehen- 
sions which  my  brother  had  occasionally  felt,  within  a 
few  years,  respecting  his  preparation  for  death.  This 
was  more  particularly  the  fact,  I  believe,  just  before  his 
31 


362  HIS    ESTIMATE    OF 

last  visit  to  the  south  ;  and  was  regarded  by  his  friends  as 
chiefly  the  effect  of  disease,  in  connexion  with  an  almost 
overwhelming  view  of  the  solemnities  of  an  eternity  just 
at  hand.  It  was  not  gloom  exactly.  He  had  too  much 
resignation  for  this.  Nor  was  it  for  himself  alone,  that  he 
feared.  Solemn,  indeed  were  his  exhortations  to  some 
of  his  christian  friends,  also  to  make  their  calling  and 
election  sure.  After  that  season,  (for  I  am  not  sure  that 
there  was  more  than  one  that  was  peculiarly  marked,)  he 
enjoyed,  as  is  usual  with  those  who  become  deeply  hum- 
ble, a  great  increase  of  light  and  comfort. — Great  believer 
as  he  was  in  the  efficacy  of  prayer,  and  always  sensible 
of  his  liability  to  deception,  he  frequently  requested  his 
confidential  friends  to  pray  for  him  as  an  impenitent  sin- 
ner, if  they  saw  reason  to  suspect  him  such  ;  and  most 
earnestly  did  he  beseech  God  to  search  him,  as  might 
easily  be  shown  by  many  extracts. 

I  subjoin  some  extracts  to  his  old  friend,  Mr.  H.  Homes 
of  Boston,  who  was  then  at  Charleston  for  his  health. 
They  will  show  his  estimate  of  infant  baptism,  as  well 
as  his  christian  regards  to  those  who  reject  the  rite. 

Wethersfield,  Dec.  1G,  1831. 

My  dear  Brother, — I  have  recently  returned  from 
an  interesting  visit  at  your  most  hospitable  dwelling.  My 
spirits,  my  soul  and  body,  have  been  exceedingly  refresh- 
ed by  my  friends  in  Mass.  But  the  greatest  endearment 
is,  that  I  may  have  been  instrumental  of  affording  them 
some  instruction  and  consolation.  It  was  a  precious  priv- 
ilege to  attempt  to  lead  the  devotions  of  your  family  in 
praying  for  their  dearest  absent  friend.  I  was  much  grat- 
ified to  see  the  manifest  submission,  tranquillity  and  cheer- 
fulness of  Mrs.  II.  separated  so  far  from  the  husband  of 
her  youth  and  the  father  of  her  children.  If  it  were 
practicable,  it  would  be  my  delight,  to  endeavor  to  com- 
fort her  in  her  solitude,  and  aid  her  in  training  those  little 

immortals  for  immortal  glory.     spent  two  or   three 

days  with  us.  I  am  pleased  with  his  appearance.  God 
grant,  that  you  may  live  to  see  him  an  able,  faithful,  zeal- 
ous, successful  minister  of  the  gospel.  For  such  a  con- 
summation, may  you  have  grace  to  make  your  most  ar- 
dent supplication,  from  day  to  day.  He  seems  to  have 
received  an  unhappy  bias  toward   the   baptist  sentiments. 


ENFANT    BAPTISM,    ETC.  363 

I  am  willing  you  should  pray,  that  he  may  be  kept  from 
these  errors.  But  I  am  far  from  considering  these  as  the 
greatest  of  errors,  though  infant  baptism  has  recently 
appeared  to  me  more  precious,  endearing,  and  glorious, 
than  ever.  Argument,  on  our  side  of  the  question,  to  me 
appears  scarcely  short  of  absolute  demonstration.  Even 
christians  are  often  under  most  astonishing  infatuation  ! 
Prayer  and  affectionate  treatment  appear  to  be  the  best 
remedies.  After  all,  (much  as  I  prize  infant  baptism, 
much  as  I  rejoice  in  the  privilege  of  having  devoted  my 
babes  to  the  Holy  Three,  in  this  ordinance  divine;  firmly 
as  I  believe,  that  it  has  been  among  the  means  that  God 
has  apparently  blessed  to  bring  four  of  my  children  to 
submit  to  himself,)  what  if should  be  a  baptist  min- 
ister ?  I  should  much  rather  see  him  a  good  baptist  min- 
ister, than  to  see  him  a  good — any  thing  else,  though  a 
pedobaptist. 

May  the  Lord  hear  the  prayers  of  your  friends  for  you, 
and  bless  you,  and  preserve  you,  and  restore  you  to  your 
city,  to  your  family,  and  to  more  than  your  former  use- 
fulness. 

Give  my  most  affectionate  regards  to  all  my  dear 
Charleston  friends,  who  may  happen  to  mention  my  name. 

Wethers/ield,  Dec.  22,  1831. 
My  very  dear  Brother  R. — How  horribly  cold,  stu- 
pid, and  dead  are  most  of  our  sermons,  prayers,  and  ad- 
dresses !  If  I  were  tempted  to  infidelity,  surely  our  com- 
mon pulpit  performances  would  be  enough  to  confirm  me. 
Can  it  be  that  these  dull  preachers,  might  I  say  so  to  my- 
self, have  any  regard  for  the  salvation  of  others,  or  of 
themselves? — that  they  have  any  fixed  belief  of  what  they 
preach  ?     Can    their  doctrine   be    true  ?     Alas !  for   Mr. 

■ ,  I  heard  him  at .     His  sermon  was  excellent ; 

but  his  -peaking  was  grievously  distressing  to  christians. 
Alas,  ray  brother,  what  can  be  done?  Is  not  good  speak- 
ing one  half  of  the  excellence  of  a  good  minister  ?  Should 
not  the  theological  student  devote  more  than  one  hun- 
dredth part  of  his  preparatory  labors  to  acquiring  this 
most  noble  and  most  difficult  art  ?  Should  he  not  devote 
at  least  one  tenth  '.  an  hour  every  day  ?  I  esteem  the 
Hebrew  language  as  much  perhaps  as  you  wish.  But 
what  a  trifle  is  a  knowledge  of  Hebrew,  compared  with 
pulpit  eloquence ! 


364  PUBLICATIONS. 

In  the  course  of  the  year  we  have  just  been  reviewing, 
was  completed  and  published  the  work  which  he  so*much 
wished  to  be  able  to  finish  before  his  death,  viz.  his 
"Questions  and  Supplement  to  Watts  on  the  Improve- 
ment of  the  Mind."  This  is,  indeed,  a  small  work  in 
size,  consisting  of  sixty-eight  pages  ,  and  is  designed  pri- 
marily to  aid  teachers  and  students  of  that  standard  trea- 
tise of  Watts  on  mental  improvement.  It  will,  however,  be 
found  an  agreeable  and  instructive  companion  at  the  side 
of  any  one  who  wishes  to  peruse  a  work  which  every 
scholar  who  designs  to  make  continual  improvement, 
through  life,  ought  more  frequently  to  read  than  any  other 
human  production.  As  Watts  had  been  long  studied  in 
his  school,  and  my  brother  had  also  studied  it  much  be- 
fore, he  had  enjoyed  the  best  of  advantages  for  construct- 
ing these  questions  and  supplement. 

At  this  period  he  also  published  his  third  stereotype 
edition  of  Questions  on  Goodrich's  History  of  the  United 
States,  consisting  of  204  pages,  and  containing  much 
additional   matter  to  the  History  itself. 

We  continue  our  sketches  by  some  quotations  from  a 
letter  to  Mr.  J.  Trask,  Jr. 

Wethersfield,  Feb.  1,1832. 

1  had  anticipated  much  from  my  late  visit  at  Beverly. 
Having  long  feared  that  I  had  preached  to  you  for  the 
last  time,  and  sung  my  last  song  on  earth  with  you,  it 
was  my  heart's  desire  and  prayer  to  God,  that  I  might 
once  more  be  allowed  to  proclaim  the  everlasting  gospel 
in  that  dear  house,  to  that  most  beloved  people ;  and  if 
possible,  keep  the  sacramental  feast  with  those  precious 
disciples,  that  I  had  so  often  welcomed  and  hailed  at 
that  holy  table.  But  how  much  more  than  all  this,  did 
the  Lord  do  for  me  ! 

Nor  did  separation  extinguish  the  joys  of  my  visit.  On 
the  contrary,  the  retrospect  has  been,  at  times,  scarcely 
less  delightful  than  the  happy  scenes  themselves.  For  I 
have  not  regarded  them  as  joys  departed,  never  to  re- 
turn. Nor  has  the  advantage  of  my  visit  since  its  close, 
consisted  merely  in  mental  comfort.  By  means  of  im- 
proved and  improving  health,  and  as  I  trust  in  answer 
to  your  kind  intercessions,  I  have  been  enabled  to  go 
forward  in  my  studies  much  beyond  my  hopes — beyond 
what  I  had  done  before,  in  an  equal  time,  for  many  years. 


DOCTRINAL     VIEWS.  365 

Most  gladly  and  fully  can  my  heart  reciprocate  all  your 
expressions  of  affection,  and  especially  of  gratitude.  Sure- 
ly, my  beloved  brother  and  sister,  the  balance  of  obliga- 
tion is  on  my  side.  May  the  Lord  reward  you  a  thousand 
fold  for  your  continual  and  abundant  kindness.  How 
much  did  it  conduce  to  refresh  and  invigorate  both  soul 
and  body.  What  efforts  did  you  and  others  make  to 
gratify  my  wishes  and  anticipate  my  wants. 

It  is  grievous  that  there  should  be  declension  with  pro- 
fessors of  religion,  especially  to  me  it  is  grievous,  that  my 
dear  Beverly  friends  should  decline.  Let  me  beg  of  you 
all  to  look  again,  and  look  continually  unto  Jesus.  Re- 
newedly  enlist  under  his  banners.  Most  devoutly  study, 
and  implicitly  obey  his  order;  and  be  assured,  that  al- 
mighty Captain,  that  all  conquering  King,  will  lead  you  on 
to  victory  and  clory. 

Feb.  4. — Mr.  R.'s  reply  to  Mr.  F.,  I  have  not  seen  ;  but 
can  give  you  my  views  upon  what  I  suppose  to  be  the  sub- 
ject, in  a  few  words.  God  requires  us  to  love  him  with  all 
the  heart,  etc.  While  our  strength  continues,  the  obliga- 
tion continues.  If  our  strength  ceases,  the  obligation 
ceases.  If  we  have  lost  our  strength,  we  may  have  been 
criminal  in  losing  it  ;  but  not  in  neglecting  to  use  what 
we  have  not.  If  another  has  lost  it  for  us,  without  our 
knowledge  or  consent,  the  blame  is  his,  not  ours.  If  sin- 
ners have  no  power  to  love  God,  then  they  should  not  be 
condemned  for  not  loving  God  ;  and  the  dreadful  sentence 
of  the  Savior,  in  John  3  :  19,  must  be  regarded  as  a  nullity. 
Now,  if  a  sinner  has  strength  to  love  God,  and  with  that 
strength  does  love  God,  he  will  instantly  go  to  Christ, 
when  Christ  is  presented.  Can  sinners,  then,  come  to 
Christ,  without  the  special  aid  of  the  Spirit?  No  doubt 
they  can.  Did  a  sinner  ever  do  this?  Never;  nor  ever 
will.  Why  do  they  not?  Why  will  they  not?  This  is  a 
question  for  them  to  answer  at  the  bar  of  conscience  and 
at  the  bar  of  God.  I  have  no  apology  to  offer  for  them. 
They  will  be  found  without  excuse  at  last.  It  is  desper- 
ate wickedness.  It  is  the  madness  of  the  heart ;  incurable 
insanity  of  will ;  the  great  mystery  of  iniquity.  If  the  sin- 
ner can  find  a  more  dreadful  mystery  than  this,  let  him 
cry  out,  mystery  forever.  I  acknowledge  it  baffles  my 
metaphysics.  I  cannot  account  for  it  as  a  fact.  It  oppo- 
31* 


366  D-OCTRINAL    VIEWS. 

ses  the   metaphysics  of  Edwards,  and   therefore  the  good 
Edwardeans  will  be  backward  to  receive  it. 

I  have  thought  it  proper  to  retain  the  above  extract  on 
metaphysical  divinity,  as  I  wish,  so  far  as  convenient,  to 
give  a  view  of  his  religious  opinions.  But  in  order  that 
this  view  may  be  just,  in  the  present  particular,  and  prop- 
erly guarded  against  misinterpretation,  I  think  it  needful 
to  add  a  remark  or  two  on  what  I  very  frequently  heard 
him  maintain,  and  that  with  much  zeal.  While  such 
were  his  views  of  man's  natural  ability,  and  of  his  moral 
inability,  still,  he  did  not  for  a  moment  suppose,  that  a 
sinner  could  repent  by  a  mere  volition  to  repent.  His  met- 
aphysics, like  all  his  philosophy,  he  endeavored  to  frame 
wholly  by  the  inductive  process.  Though  very  fond  of 
lucid  theory,  yet  he  was  still  more  fond  of  true  theory  ; 
and  could  not  think  of  discarding  or  warping  a  single  fact. 
His  two  grand  store-houses  of  facts,  for  moral  induction, 
were  the  bible  and  experience.  Now  he  held  that  no  fact 
in  morals  is  capable  of  more  overwhelming  proof  from  ex- 
perience, than  this,  that  sinners  try  to  repent  on  ike  spot, 
and  yet  do  not  repent.  This  cardinal  fact,  from  the  testi- 
mony of  sinners,  and  of  those  who  subsequently  repent,  he 
would  hold,  let  come  what  might,  in  respect  to  the  connec- 
tion of  this  fact  with  other  facts  of  equal  authority. 

If  all  men  were  equally  candid  to  admit  and  anxious  to 
ascertain  the  facts  and  the  revealed  principles  in  the 
moral  world,  might  we  not  hope  there  would  soon  dawn 
a  brighter  prospect  of  deliverance  from  some  of  the  moral 
tempers  that  have  now  raged  for  more  than  a  thousand 
years !  Alas,  how  much  does  the  world  yet  need  another 
Bacon,  to  rectify  the  pursuit  of  moral  science,  and  make 
it,  if  possible,  as  truly  inductive  as  physical  science  has 
become  since  the  days  of  that  illustrious  reformer.  Until 
then,  one  portion  of  men,  of  a  certain  temperament,  will 
continue  to  theorize  wildly,  while  another  portion,  not  less 
wild,  though  perhaps  less  self-confident,  will  continue  to 
anathematize  reasoning,  in  the  gross,  on  the  subject  of  re- 
ligion,— the  very  subject,  above  all  others,  on  which  im- 
mortals ought  truly  to  reason,  on  which  inspired  apostles 
"  reasoned,"  Christ  reasoned,  and  on  which  God  said, 
"  come,  and  let  us  reason  together."     Never  is  it  reasoning y 


DOCTRINAL    VIEWS. 


367 


but  the   want  or  the  empty  pretence  of  it,  that  a  rational 
and  religious  being  is  to  fear  and  condemn. 

Not  Ions  after  the  above  date,  he  wrote  the  following 
queries,  occasioned  by  certain  statements  then  recently 
published. 

Are  all  doctrines  facts'?  Are  any?  Is  not  a  doctrine 
always  a  proposition  ?  Is  a  fact  ever  a  proposition  ?  Are 
not  many  doctrines  false?  Can  a  fact  be  false  ?  Does  it 
not  greatly  tend  to  perplex,  confuse,  and  darken  the  sub- 
ject, to  call  facts  doctrines? 

Does  not  "  the  philosophy  of  doctrines"  consist  in  in- 
vestigating, not  their  direct  scripture  evidence,  but  the 
reason,  propriety,  fitness,  concomitants,  and  consequences, 
which  are  supposed  to  belong  to  them  ? — or  in  the  result 
of  such  investigation?  Does  not  "the  mode  of  stating 
and  illustrating"  doctrines,  belong  rather  to  style,  than  to 
"  philosophy?" 

Supposing  "  mode,  etc."  to  mean  something  more  than 
style,  must  not  persons  greatly  differ  in  opinion,  who  great- 
ly differ  in  their  "  mode  of  stating  and  illustrating  doc- 
trines, in  their  relations  to  each  other,  to  the  human  mind, 
and  to  the  whole  character  and  government  of  God  ?" 
Was  Arius  a  good  trinitarian,  when  in  words  he  adopted 
the  orthodox  creed,  to  the  satisfaction  of  Constantine  and 
thousands  more  .' 

Is  it  not  probable,  that,  within  a  few  years,  the  preaching 
of  the 'gospel  has  been  much  more  successful,  because  the 
great  and  fundamental  doctrine  of  depravity  has  been 
more  clearly  understood,  stated,  and  illustrated  ?  And  has 
not  much  light  been  cast  upon  this  subject,  by  discussions 
that  some  would  denominate  philosophical  ? 

Do  not  persons  often  agree  much  more  or  much  less,  in 
words  than  in  sentiments  I — especially  in  their  simple 
statements  and  general  definitions?  Can  they  perceive 
how  far  they  agree,  without  copious  explanations?  Can 
these  explanations  be  given  without  philosophizing  / 

Do  not  some  of  the  orthodox  exhibit  such  views  of  de- 
pravitv,  and  state  them  in  such  a  manner,  as  are  in  the 
utmost  danger  of  leading  sinners  to  think  their  sins  a 
mere  trille  :  to  make  a  mock  at  sin;  to  neglect  repent- 
ance, and  ruin  their  souls  forever  ? 


DOCTRINAL    VIEWS. 

Is  it  certain,  is  it  probable,  that  any  preacher  ever  pro- 
duced the  same  moral  effects  by  his  preaching,  that  he 
would  have  produced,  had  his  philosophy  been  different? 
Is  the  philosophy  of  doctrines  so  inert  and  vain,  that,  like 
the  heathen  idol,  it  can  do  neither  good  nor  evil  ? 

Is  there  that  difference  between  doctrines,  and  the  phi- 
losophy of  doctrines  which  has  been  supposed  ?  Can  any 
person  define  this  difference,  or  describe  it,  even  to  his 
own  understanding  ? 

Did  any  one  ever  preach  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel 
"  fully,  completely,  and  entirely,"  without  something — 
without  much — of  what  some  would  consider  philosophy? 

Is  it  quite  right  to  rebuke  with  sharpness,  and  attempt, 
in  some  measure,  to  silence  such  men  as  Luther,  Calvin, 
Beza,  Baxter,  Owen,  Flavel,  Watts,  Edwards,  Dwight, 
Emmons,  Burton,  Payson,  Woods,  Taylor,  Beecher,  etc., 
for  publishing  their  different  views  and  various  illustra- 
tions of  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel,  for  the  consideration 
of  the  world  ?  Should  all  such  men  hold  their  peace, 
upon  such  subjects,  would  not  the  stones  cry  out? 
Should  we  not  be  in  danger  of  retaining  the  whole  sad  in- 
heritance of  our  errors,  and  sinking  together  into  the 
Dead  Sea  of  papal  infallibility? 

Do  not  many  warn  others  to  beware  of  philosophy,  who 
have  much  more  occasion  to  take  heed  to  themselves,  to 
their  doctrines,  and  to  their  own  philosophy  ? 

In  the  recent  discussions  of  doctrine  among  the  ortho- 
dox of  New-England,  he  took  an  intense  interest;  but 
agreed  not  exactly,  perhaps,  with  any  one  of  the  writers, — 
certainly  not  as  it  respects  all  modes  of  expression.  I 
have  not  space,  even  il  it  were  here  expedient,  to  descend 
to  minute  particulars.  In  general,  I  remark,  that  he  held, 
in  the  strongest  sense,  to  man's  natural  ability,  and  his 
accountability  for  the  performance  of  all  which  God  re- 
quires of  him.  He  also  held  to  what  is  commonly  under- 
stood, in  New-England,  by  moral  inability,  though  he  was 
not  fond  of  the  phrase,  which  he  feared  had  cast  more 
darkness  than  light  on  the  subject.  All  that  style  of  theo- 
rizing and  of  teaching,  which,  in  his  view,  had  a  tendency 
to  impair  the  sinner's  sense  of  responsibility,  or  to  discour- 
age him  from  an  immediate  attempt  to  obey  God,  my 
brother  regarded  with  pain;    and  longed  for  the  period 


DOCTRINAL    VIEWS. 

when  it  may  become  obsolete.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was 
with  sentiments  of  unmingled  disapprobation,  that  he  uni- 
formly spoke  of  whatever  wore  the  aspect  of  a  tendency  to 
weaken  our  belief  in  the  direct,  immediate,  and  almighty 
power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  on  the  heart  of  every  true  con- 
vert. The  importance  of  religious  truth,  and  its  adapted- 
ness  to  its  declared  end  in  the  work  of  sanctification,  no 
man  more  firmly  believed,  or  more  zealously  urged;  while, 
at  the  same  time,  he  believed  that  all  the  truth  in  the  uni- 
verse would  fail,  of  itself,  to  convert  a  single  soul.  Nor 
did  he  believe  that  the  Holy  Spirit  converts  men  "  through 
the  truth,"  simply  by  way  of  moral  suasion,  (as  it  is  tech- 
nically termed,)  or  by  the  mere  presentation  of  motives. 

Though  he  read  most  of  the  works  on  this  controversy, 
and  studied  the  ablest  of  them  with  deep  interest,  and  was 
withal  exceedingly  fond  of  discussion;  still  he  was  not  a 
partisan.  He  loved  peace  ;  and  he  saw  much  to  approve, 
and  some  things  to  regret,  on  both  sides.  And  right  glad 
was  he,  on  all  occasions,  by  word  or  letter,  to  do  what  he 
could  to  aid  and  prompt  those  on  either  side,  to  look,  with 
a  more  single  eye,  directly  at  the  truth  as  revealed  by  God, 
and  shown  by  experience.  Neither  was  he  an  alarmist, 
though  his  eye  was  open  to  dangers.  He  cherished  other 
views  of  the  rock  of  truth,  than  such  as  would  lead  him  to 
tremble  for  its  safety,  from  this  species  of  collision.  While 
he  regretted  temporary  evils,  hitherto,  through  human  in- 
firmity, always  attendant  on  such  discussions,  still,  he  had 
nothing  but  high  hope  for  the  ultimate  result.  "  It  is  by 
slow  decrees  and  by  hard  blows,"  said  he  once  in  argu- 
ment on  this  point,  "that  the  sparks  of  truth  are  to  be 
elicited,  in  this  dark  world." 

We  may  yet  meet  with  some  further  indications  of  his 
views  on  these  matters,  at  a  subsequent  date.  We  now 
turn  to  another  topic,  where  all  pious  hearts  will  beat  in 
unison.     It  is  from  a  letter  to  Mr.  J.  Trask. 

WethersJUld,  March  21,  1832. 
May  your  daughter  prove  all  and  more  than  all,  that  the 
fondness  of  a  father's  heart  has  ever  presumed  to  antici- 
pate. She  desires  to  be  useful.  Blessed  desire  !  if  it 
flows  out  from  a  humble  heart,  and  mingles  and  ascends 
with  earnest  praises  and  fervent  supplications  to  Infinite 
Goodness.     Usefulness !    usefulness !    In  this  one   word, 


370  USEFULNESS,    ETC. 

every  thing  else,  that  is  great  and  good,  seems  to  be  swal- 
lowed up.  In  its  highest  sense,  it  is  happiness;  it  is  bliss  ; 
it  is  life  everlasting;  it  is  an  exceeding  and  eternal  weight 
of  glory.  Nay,  it  is  more  ;  it  is  the  good  of  the  universe, 
and  the  eternal  glory  of  God.  What  a  sweet,  precious 
lesson  has  our  Savior  taught  us,  "  It  is  more  blessed  to 
give  than  to  receive  !"  May  such  blessedness  be  yours  and 
hers  forever  and  forever.  With  what  sublime  and  exult- 
ing emotions,  do  I  sometimes,  look  upon  those,  who  are 
just  coming  upon  the  stage  of  life.  1  am  ready  to  say 
within  myself,  "  Happy,  thrice  happy  ye,  if  ye  will  but 
know  the  things  that  belong  to  your  peace,  and  take  the 
cup  of  blessedness  that  the  Lord  is  presenting."  What 
stupendous  glories  are  the  rising  generation  to  pour  forth 
upon  the  enraptured  family  of  God  through  endless  ages! 
Reflected  glories  indeed  ;  but  it  will  be  the  glory  of  those 
glories,  that  they  are  reflected  from  the  radiance  of  infi- 
nite, everlasting  Love.  Let  it  be  our  hearts'  desire  and 
prayer  to  God,  that  our  children  may  have  a  cordial  and 
distinguished  part  in  this  reflection  ;  and  let  us  exert  our- 
selves to  the  utmost,  to  prepare  them. 

In  May,  we  find  him  again  in  Boston,  for  the  purpose 
of  superintending  the  publication  of  his  edition  of  Watts 
on  the  Mind.  etc.  Never  before,  (he  writes  to  his  wife, 
May  29,)  did  study  seem  so  desirable  ;  and  you  may  be 
assured  I  am  pursuing  it  with  a  keen  relish  and  much 
satisfaction.     I  walk  three  or  four  miles  every  day. 

Boston,  June  8,  1832. 

My  dearest  Companion, — I  have  just  returned  from 
a  journey  to  Bradford  and  Andover  ;  1  staid  but  one  night 
in  each  place,  and  hastened  back  to  my  delightful  task. 
I  called  upon  Dr.  Whiting,  and  told  him  that  his  excel- 
lent medicine,  that  seemed  to  have  been  the  means  of 
such  wonders  in  my  favor,  appeared  to  be  failing  me.  He 
has  prepared  for  me  another  medicine,  which  I  have  taken 
twice.  How  I  am  to  be  nourished,  or  what  is  before  me 
in  time,  I  know  not ;  nor  am  I  anxious.  I  hope  heaven  is 
before  me  in  the  world  to  come.  Brother  R.  informed 
me,  that  sister  Hall  at  Granville,  was  released  from  all 
earthly  cares,  and  as  we  hope,  received  to  a  better  world 
a  few  weeks  ago. 


COUNCIL    ON    BAPTISM.  371 

June  13. 

I  received  the  last  proof  sheet  of  the  Poetic  Reader, 
(second  edition,)  two   days  ago. 

Pressed,  as  1  now  am  with  business  unspeakably  mo- 
mentous, you  might  be  rather  grieved  than  otherwise,  if  I 
were  to  expend  time  and  strength  in  writing  you  long  let- 
ters. Mr.  Loring  is  going  on  with  Watts,  very  much  to 
my  satisfaction.  Crocker  &,  Brewster  appear  very  affec- 
tionate, and  desire  the  Outline  as  soon  as  possible.  But 
I  must  make  haste  slowly — slowly. 

June  26. 

My  good  old  friend  Albi  has  seemed  to  desert  me.  Its 
successor  has  proved  rather  injurious.  It  is  doubtful, 
whether  I  shall  derive  any  more  benefit  from  eating  meat, 
while  the  world  stands.  I  have  been  much  troubled  with 
dyspepsy.  I  cannot  but  hope,  that  I  may  recover  health  a 
little,  before  I  go  hence,  and  be  enabled  to  finish  the 
work,  upon  which  my  heart  is  so  fondly  fixed. 

I  have  attended  the  council  at  Providence,  to  which  I  was 
delegated.  Our  session  was  very  pleasant,  our  delibera- 
tions most  affectionate,  and  our  result  unanimous.  The 
two  brethren,  excommunicated  on  account  of  not  believ- 
ing and  practising  infant  baptism,  we  recommended  to  be 
received  by  any  congregational  church,  that  may  be  will- 
ing to  receive  them,  upon  credible  evidence  of  piety,  and 
a  disposition  not  to  make  disturbance  upon  this  subject. 
The  four  acrarieved  brethren,  with  their  wives,  we  advised 

SO  "  ' 

to  join  some  other  church  or  churches,  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble;  but  declined   organizing  them  as  a  separate  church. 

E.,  dear  precious  daughter,  she  has  exceedingly  com- 
forted my  heart  by  her  endearing  letter.  May  the  Lord 
be  to  her  ten  thousand  times  better  than  her  poor,  feeble, 
unworthy  father  can  be. 

Last  Sabbath  I  preached  twice  (short,  short)  to  our 
dear  Beverly  friends,  with  some  freedom  and  comfort  to 
myself,  and  I  trust  not  the  least  injury  to  my  health.  I 
desire  to  be  thankful,  that  I  can  preach.  O  that  1  could 
study.     But  I  will  endeavor  to  be  patient. 

For  myself  and  family,  I  do  not  feel  much  alarm  on 
account  of  the  cholera.  There  is  no  doubt  that  reports 
are  much  exaggerated.  Probably  I  shall  be  as  safe  here 
as  any  where.  Yet  if  you  desire  it,  I  will  hasten  home. 
May  the  Lord  preserve  us  and  our  country  from  the  deso- 


372  ADDRESS    ON 

lating  scourge.  I  am  engaged  to  supply  at  Beverly  one 
Sabbath  more,  as  Mr.  O.  is  absent. 

God  be  merciful  to  you,  and  bless  you,  and  cause  his 
face  to  shine  upon  you,  etc.  Ps.  ()7. 

Love  to  all  the  family  and  all  the  school ;  [i.e.  the 
school  his  wife  was  teacjiing ;  for  he  had  found  himself 
now  for  some  time  too  infirm  to  continue  his  seminary.] 

I  find  among  his  manuscripts,  an  address  for  the  fourth 
of  July,  dated  Beverly,  1832.  Only  the  introduction  is 
fully  written,  the  rest  being  brief  notices  of  thoughts  for 
extempore  utterance.  I  subjoin  a  part  of  this  introduc- 
tion. It  is  strongly  marked  with  his  characteristic  and 
truly  christian  patriotism  ; — a  patriotism  no  less  intense 
and  steady  than  that  of  the  purest  Roman ;  but  of  a  far 
different  cast.  He  loved  his  country,  not  as  the  proud 
mistress  of  the  world,  or  the  monument  of  human  gran- 
deur, but  as  a  monument  of  the  divine  glory  and  a  means 
of  light,  freedom,  and  salvation  to  the  whole  world.  If  the 
occasion  called  for  it,  he  would  doubtless  as  readily  have 
delivered  his  last  address  to  his  surviving  countrymen, 
in  the  shape  of  an  address  on  the  subject  of  American 
liberty,  civil  and  religious,  as  in  the  shape  of  a  common 
sermon ;  and  it  would  be  much  the  same  thing  in  effect — 
devout  and  full  of  christian  hope  and  duty.  Perhaps  this, 
in  fact,  ivas  his  last  discourse  to  his  first  beloved  flock. — 
It  was  doubtless  prepared  in  much  haste,  for  such  as  might 
wish  to  keep  the  festival  in  an  unostentatious  and  pious 
manner.  His  "  intention  was,  to  look  at  the  declaration 
of  our  independence  rather  as  a  fact  in  philosophy — to 
contemplate  its  causes  and  its  consequences."  He  thus 
begins. 

Is  there  a  fact  in  the  whole  world  of  nature,  that  is  pre- 
eminently dear  to  philosophy  ?  That  fact  is  the  declara- 
tion of  our  independence.  Is  there  a  fact  in  the  whole 
world  of  nature,  that  is  pre-eminently  dear  to  rhetoric  1 
That  fact  is  the  declaration  of  our  independence.  Dearer 
still  is  this  declaration,  far  dearer,  to  freedom,  to  religion, 
to  the  patriotic  heart.  Is  there  a  day,  the  most  precious 
of  all  the  days  in  the  year — the  most  precious  of  the  whole 
866,  that  fill  our  utmost  calendar?  It  is  to-day  ;  it  is  the 
Fourth  of  July.     Is  the  day  of  creation,  the  day  of  the 


ON    AMERICAN    INDEPENDENCE.  373 

Savior's  birth,  the  Savior's  death,  the  Savior's  resurrec- 
tion, the  Savior's  ascension,  more  precious  still  ?  To  the 
christian  indeed  it  surely  must  be,  if  it  could  be  ascer- 
tained. But  which  of  these  days  is  known?  Some  of 
them  most  certainly  are  not.  If  it  is  otherwise  with  some, 
these  must  be  admitted  as  exceptions,  and  the  glories  of 
the  Fourth  of  July  are  only  secondary  compared  with 
theirs. 

Do  any  of  you,  my  friends,  hail  the  day  we  celebrate 
as  the  anniversary  of  your  birth  ?  and  are  you  ever  tempt- 
ed, like  Job,  to  curse  the  day  in  which  you  were  born? 
Should  the  temptation  again  assail,  think  for  a  moment  of 
the  glories  of  the  day ;  and  then  you  must  be  prepared  to 
say  to  the  intruding  thought,  Get  thee  hence,  thou  double 
blasphemy — and  then  to  shout  to  God  and  your  country, 
Blessings,  blessings  forever  on  this  blessed  day  ! 

I  have  said  that  the  declaration  of  our  independence,  is 
dear  to  philosophy.  But  how?  It  is  the  business  of  phi- 
losophy to  investigate  causes  and  to  trace  effects ;  to  pon- 
der the  events  of  providence  as  thus  related ;  thence  to 
deduce  the  most  important  lessons  of  instruction  to  regu- 
late our  conduct ;  by  which,  as  moral  agents  under  the 
Father  of  our  spirits,  we  may  sometimes,  for  most  impor- 
tant ends,  conduce  to  set  in  motion,  accelerate,  retard,  or 
stop  the  very  wheels  of  nature  5  or  when  this  cannot  be 
done,  we  may  hide  ourselves  from  impending  calamities,  or 
reap  a  more  abundant  harvest  of  blessings.  The  study 
of  philosophy,  properly  so  called,  is  in  the  highest  degree 
practical ;  and  to  the  true  philosopher,  the  more  practical, 
the  more  delightful.  Peculiarly  is  philosophy  delighted  in 
fixing  the  intensity  of  her  single  eye  upon  a  single  fact ; 
in  beholding  it  as  resulting  from  ten  thousand  causes  con- 
spiring to  the  same  result,  or  from  countless  chains  of 
causes  and  effects,  uniting  in  a  single  link  ;  and  then  in 
pursuing  downward  the  amazing  fact,  through  long  suc- 
cessions of  results,  continually  spreading  wider  and  wider, 
continually  multiplying  and  increasing  in  number  and  im- 
portance, till  overwhelmed  and  lost  in  the  abyss  of  futurity. 
Such  a  fact  most  pre-eminently,  is  the  declaration  of  our 
independence. 

I  have  said  also  that  our  declaration  is  dear  to  rhetoric. 
Fine  rhetoric  does  not  consist  in  attempting  to  elevate  and 
32 


374  HIS    HEALTH,    ETC. 

aggrandize  the  base  and  the  contemptible ;  in  trying  to 
dress  up  hay  and  stubble  in  the  beauties  of  the  lily,  or  the 
gorgeous  robe  of  the  rainbow.  The  more  any  person 
should  attempt  to  please  or  to  persuade  by  doing  this,  the 
more  ridiculous  he  would  render  his  composition  and  him- 
self. You  may  dress  up  a  monkey  in  the  attire  of  a  king  ; 
but  he  is  a  monkey  still,  and  but  the  more  ridiculous  for 
his  royal  robes.  True  rhetoric  combines  thoughts  that 
glow  and  words  that  burn.  It  gives  us  in  words  a  noble, 
dignified,  sublime,  or  beautiful  picture  of  objects  which  in 
themselves  or  in  their  relations,  are  truly  such.  From 
worthy  originals  it  paints  to  the  very  life.  Rhetoric  must 
have  a  worthy  subject  or  it  is  rhetoric  no  more.  But  where 
are  they  to  be  found  ?  Where  found  !  Where  are  they 
not  ?  Sons  of  genius,  daughters  of  taste,  where  are  they 
not  1  The  infinite  Creator  has  richly  diffused  them  over 
the  earth,  and  most  profusely  sprinkled  them  through  the 
fields  of  immensity.  But  especially  do  we  find  these  sub- 
jects in  the  world  of  thought.  With  a  few  grains  of  al- 
lowance for  poetic  extravagance,  we  may  here  adopt  the 
language  of  Akenside. 


Mind,  mind  alone,  bear  witness  earth  and  heav'n 
The  living  fountains,  in  itself  contains 
Of  beauteous  and  sublime etc. 


Boston,  July  20,  1832. 
My  dear  Son  L. — My  influenza  seems  to  be  entirely 
gone.     What  a  crisis  have  I  been  passing  !  a  crisis,  that 
is  not  yet  ended  ;  a  crisis,  that  you  can  hardly  realize — 
enough  to  make  the  sternest  doctor  shake  his  head ! 

The  "  crisis  "  was  doubtless  the  threatening  symptoms 
which  he  had  just  experienced,  in  those  days  of  cholera, 
in  connection  with  the  sudden  failure  of  all  his  remedies, 
especially  alhi. 

July    20,    1832. 
My  dear  Brother  R., — Be  not  concerned  about  me. 
My  health  is  manifestly  better;  perhaps  in  consequence  of 
following  your  advice  in  forcing  myself  to  bed  sooner  than 


MISCELLANEOUS.  375 

usual.  I  am  still  disposed  to  make  farther  experiments. 
I  shall  rejoice  to  lose  the  argument,  if  I  can  gain  the 
health. 


My  brother  had  always  been  too  much  in  the  sad  habit, 
so  incident  to  minds  of  an  ardent  and  excitable  tempera- 
ment, of  protracting  his  studies  to  a  late  hour  at  night. 
*  He  found  it  his  best  time  for  study  ;'  and  seemed  less 
prudent  on  this  than  on  any  other  subject.  In  the 
course  of  this  season,  he  passed  many  nights  with  us.  It 
was  an  agreeable  and  healthful  ride  for  him  from  Boston 
to  this  place,  in  the  stage.  He  usually  returned  the  next 
day  ;  but  always  brought  his  manuscripts,  and  improved 
every  hour  in  which  he  was  able  to  study.  He  came  and 
departed  without  ceremony,  as  an  inmate  of  the  family  ; 
but  never  without  leaving  a  fresh  impression  on  our  minds 
of  some  good  thing.  As  he  had  a  chamber  to  himself,  we 
were  not  aware,  for  some  time,  to  how  late  an  hour  he  sat 
up.  He  received  our  remonstrance  on  the  danger  to  his 
health  and  life,  with  his  usual  kindness,  and  consented  to 
try  an  earlier  hour  for  rest. — Ah  !  that  chamber  ;  and  the 
table  on  which  he  wrote ;  and  the  very  spot  where  he 
hung  his  watch  before  him  ; — all  are  sanctified  to  me  and 
mine,  by  associations  with  these  his  last,  endearing  visits! 

"  I  had  a  brother  once." 

Miss  Grant,  being  in  Boston,  requested  the  favor  of  a 
few  lines  in  her  travelling  note-book,  fearing  that  she 
might  see  his  face  no  more.  He  immediately  wrote  the 
following,  which  proved  his  last  to  her. 

MEMORIAL. 

In  compliance  with  your  request,  I  venture  to  suggest 
two  or  three  hints  in  the  form  of  advice,  not  so  much  with 
the  feelings  of  a  father  and  teacher,  as  of  a  brother  and 
friend. 

Feast  your  spirit  continually  with  the  clusters  of  Eshcol. 
By  the  most  graphic  views  of  celestial  scenery,  by  medita- 
tion, by  prayer,  by  anticipation,  by  heavenly  acts,  by  the 
most  intimate  communion   with  all   that  is  holy,  be  con- 


376 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


stantly  drawing  down  heaven  into  your  own  mind,  till  yoa 
are  called  to  ascend  up  thither. 

Ever  seek  the  light  of  God's  countenance,  that  you  may 
shine  upon  others.     Ps.  67. 

Love  yourself  as  your  neighbor.  Be  as  sincerely,  con- 
stantly, and  earnestly  engaged  in  desiring  and  seeking 
your  own  health,  improvement,  usefulness,  and  salvation, 
as  you  should  in  promoting  mine,  were  they  equally  en- 
trusted to  your  care. 

Fearlessly  pursue  celestial  truth,  wherever  the  word  and 
Spirit  lead.  Be  not  frightened  at  the  sound  of  Philosophy! 
Metaphysics  !  Speculation  !  Human  Reason  !  Logic  i 
Theory!  System!  Disputation!  These  can  never  harm 
you,  so  long  as  you  keep  clear  of  error  and  sin. 
Yours  most  cordially, 

J.  Emerson. 

Wethersheld,  Oct.  11,  1832. 

My  dear  brother  W., — When  I  left  home  last  May, 
it  was  with  the  full  purpose  and  hope,  that  I  should  visit 
you  before  my  return ;  and  it  has  occasioned  me  no  small 
disappointment,  that  I  have  not  been  able. 

And  now,  my  brother,  let  me  inquire,  with  more  than 
natural  affection,  Is  your  soul  in  health?  Are  you,  with 
my  dear  sister,  (whom  I  now  regard  as  doubly  my  sister, 
though  once  but  my  neighbor,)  are  you  together  pressing 
onward  and  pressing  upward  in  the  strait,  and  narrow, 
and  blessed  way?  Do  you  feel  that  there  is  nothing,,  ex- 
cept as  connected  with  the  world  to  come,  that  is  worthy 
of  an  anxious  thought  ?  Do  you  have  your  chifdren  in 
good  subjection,  not  provoking  them  to  wrath,  bringing 
them  up  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord  ?  Are 
your  hearts,  your  hands,  your  ears,  your  tongues,  employed 
with  constant  vigor — in  any  good  measure  employed,  for 
the  conversion  and  salvation  of  a  blood-bought  world?  Do 
let  me  know  something  of  your  experiences  upon  these 
momentous  subjects. 

The  following  is  to  his  daughter  N.,  then  at  Ipswich. 
It  furnishes  a  specimen  of  his  strong  and  increasing  habit 
of  regarding  even  the  minutest  things  in  their  relation  to 
a  moral  standard.  Perhaps  some  who  read  this,  may  one 
day  reflect  more  minutely  on   the  principle  here  involved, 


DELICATE    CONSCIENCE.  377 

when  feeling  themselves  as  near  as  he  now  did  to  that  tri- 
bunal where  we  must  "  give  account  for  every  idle  word." 

Wethtrsfield,  Jan.  8,  1833. 

The  triple  letter  from  Ipswich  was  thrice  welcome. 
May  its  usefulness  he  in  proportion  to  its  generous  length. 
But  1  would  suggest  two  or  three  alterations  in  chirogra- 
ph)'. All  superfluous  strokes  in  writing,  I  consider  the 
superlluity  of  naughtiness.  These  are,  indeed,  little  foxes, 
but  they  may  conduce  to  spoil  or  mar  the  vines,  and  in- 
jure the  fruit.  It  is  a  great  thing  habitually  to  feel,  that 
for  all  these  things,  these  little  things,  we  are  accountable 
to  God — that  for  these  little  things  God  may  bring  us  to 
judgment.  But  surely  the  real  christian  must  wish,  habit- 
ually wish,  to  have  respect  to  all  God's  commands — to  be 
perfect,  as  his  heavenly  Father  is  perfect. 

To  profess  yourself  of  a  denomination,  of  which  you  are 
not  in  opinion,  must  be  hypocritical  and  criminal.  You 
may  occasionally,  and  under  very  imperious  circumstances, 
statedly  hear  preachers  of  other  denominations,  but  the 
principle,  that  we  may  leave  a  pious  orthodox  minister,  for 
the  sake  of  hearing  better  preaching,  is  probably  incorrect. 
Beware,  beware  of  itching  ears. 

Affectionately  yours, 

Joseph  Emerson. 

Wethers  field,  Jan.  15,  1833. 

My  dear  Brother  W., — I  did  not  know,  till  Mr. 
Tenney  informed  me,  a  few  days  ago,  that  you  had  become 
an  officer  in  the  church.  I  could  not  but  feel  some  regret 
at  the  intelligence.  If  you  are  really  in  Christ,  as  I  in- 
dulge the  hope  that  you  are,  still  you  are  but  a  babe  in 
him.  A  great  part  of  the  knowledge  of  the  most  useful 
christians,  is  experimental  knowledge.  How  greatly  has 
your  sphere  of  usefulness  been  elevated,  as  in  a  moment ! 
CTpon  this  eminence,  should  your  light  be  darkness,  how 
horrible  must  be  that  darkness  !  Your  spiritual  stocks  are 
suddenly  increased  four  hundred  per  cent.  May  your  spir- 
itual business,  and  gains,  and  usefulness,  be  in  a  much 
greater  ratio.  But  if  you  should  now  become  bankrupt, 
how  dieadful  must  be  the  effect!  In  such  a  breaking, 
how  tremendous  must  be  the  crash  !  I  say  not  these 
things  to  appal  you  ;  but  as  my  beloved  brother,  I  warn 
32* 


378  OFFICE    OF    DEACON. 

you.  We  are  all  continually  in  danger  of  being  lifted  up 
with  pride,  especially,  when  we  receive  any  distinction  that 
raises  us  in  any  respect  above  our  fellows.  On  account  of 
your  religious  infancy,  you  must  be  in  peculiar  danger.  O, 
take  heed,  most  diligently, devoutly  and  constantly,  that  you 
do  not  fall  into  the  condemnation  of  the  devil.  See  1  Tim. 
3  :  6,  8 — 12.  And  I  do  hope,  beloved  brother,  that  the 
Holy  Spirit  will  make  these  and  other  scriptures  powerful, 
mightily  efficacious,  in  your  sanctification  from  day  to  day 
— that  you  may  so  use  the  office  of  a  deacon,  that  you  may 
do  unspeakable  good  to  your  own  soul,  to  your  family,  to 
all  around  you.  I  could,  with  deep  interest,  write  a  volume 
upon  deaconship,  had  I  sufficient  time  and  health.  But 
I  must  now  forbear,  hoping  soon  to  converse  with  you 
more  amply  upon  the  momentous  subject — a  subject, 
claiming  much  more  attention  than  it  has  received.  I 
would  here  just  remark,  that  I  think  deacons  should  be 
ordained,  as  ministers  are,  though,  for  want  of  examina- 
tion, I  have  not  long  had  any  opinion  upon  the  subject. 
Acts  6  :  6. 

We  are  much  pleased  with  the  prospect  of  your  visiting 
us  this  winter.  O  come,  come,  come;  let  nothing  hinder 
you,  but  absolute  impossibility.  I  fear  we  shall  never  meet 
again  in  this  world,  except  it  be  this  winter.  I  have  lately 
had  an  attack  of  the  rheumatism,  very  much  more  severe 
than  ever  before.  But  1  have  reason  to  be  thankful  that  I 
have  reason  left,  and  speech,  and  all  my  senses,  and  es- 
pecially, if  I  am  not  deceived,  at  least  occasionally  the 
smile  divine — that  favor,  which  is  life,  and  that  loving- 
kindness,  which  is  better  than  life.  I  take  peculiar  com- 
fort in  singing,  and  teaching  our  children  and  pupils  to 
sing  in  a  method,  somewhat  new,  and  with  success  far  be- 
yond my  hopes.  I  long  to  tell  you,  and  to  show  you  my 
method,  which  I  have  been  many  years  in  devising  and 
improving.  We  must  teach  all  our  children  to  sing — to 
sing  the  high  praises  of  God.  We  know  not — we  little 
conjecture — what  wonders  arc  yet  to  be  produced  in  all  the 
departments  of  education.  Let  every  parent  and  every 
teacher,  and  especially  every  church-officer,  make  the  ut- 
most efforts,  to  help  forward  the  blessed  work  unto  perfec- 
tion. 

Our  dear  brother  and  sister  S.,  too,  I  am  more  desirous 
of  seeing,  than  ever,  though  the  sweet  savor  of  their  last 


SPIRITUAL    RELATIONS.  379 

precious  visit,  is  still  remaining.  O  what  a  brother  has  he 
been  to  me !  Nay,  more  than  a  brother;  a  fatiier  in  the 
gospel.  If  1  am  not  deceived,  he  has  brought  salvation  to 
my  soul.  This  spiritual  relation  appears  to  me  more  and 
more  interesting  and  endearing.  1  fear,  it  is  not  gener- 
ally felt  and  acknowledged  as  it  should  be — as  it  will  be  in 
heaven — as  it  will  be  with  increasing  rapture  to  all  eter- 
nity.    O  how  delightful  to  visit  my  Beverly  children  ! 

This  letter  has  been  almost  the  whole  labor  of  three 
days ;  and  rarely,  for  a  month  past,  have  I  done  so  much 
in  an  equal  time. 

A  part  of  this  new  method  of  teaching  children  to  sing, 
consisted  in  leading  them  first  to  imitate  the  tones  of  com- 
versation  ;  and  then,  by  a  gradual  transition,  to  imitate 
musical  tones.  The  tones,  indeed,  are  essentially  the 
same ;  but  in  music,  they  are  prolonged,  and  swelled,  and 
softened. 

TO    THE    WIFE    OF    HIS    DECEASED    BROTHER    D.    E. 

Wethersfield,  Jan.  17,  1833. 

Beloved  and  respected  Sister, — I  should  rejoice 
if  I  had  time  and  strength  to  write  you  as  long  a  letter  as 
I  have  just  finished  to  brother  W.  But  instead  of  this,  I 
must  request  you  to  accept  the  will,  and  these  very  im- 
perfect lines,  less  interesting  of  course,  than  if  we  could 
enter  particularly  into  some  great  subject.  Such  a  sub- 
ject is  the  "  Daily  Concert,  which  has  recently  been  com- 
menced and  continued  to  some  extent ;  and  which,  I 
trust,  is  observed  more  and  more  from  day  to  day  It  is 
a  plan  which  occurred  to  me  some  years  ago  ;  but  scarce- 
ly any  thing  has  been  done  about  it,  till  within  a  year, 
I  hope  it  will  soon  be  taken  up  and  greatly  improved 
by  some  theological  seminary  or  great  ecclesiastical  body. 
I  have  written  to  the  professors  of  Princeton  seminary 
upon  the  subject,  who  have  returned  me  a  most  kind  and 
encouraging  answer.  Will  not  some  of  our  good  pray- 
ing friends  at  Holies,  be  interested  in  this  great  and  im- 
portant business;  at  least  so  far  as  to  try  the  experiment 
of  observing  it  lor  a  time.  My  opinion  is,  if  they  will 
do  this  in  earnest,  they  will  pray  twice  as  much  for  the 
conversion  of  the   world — twice   as  much   and   twice  as 


DAILY    CONCERT 

well ;  and  that  the  blessed  effect  will  be  four  times  as 
great.  And  what  if  the  whole  christian  world  should  thus 
increase  the  amount  and  efficacy  of  their  prayers  for 
Zion's  enlargement  ?  O  consummation  most  devoutly  to 
be  wished.  And  such  consummation,  and  much  more 
glorious,  is  near  at  hand.  O  my  sister,  let  us  thank  God 
and  take  courage,  and  engage  with  more  and  more  zeal 
and  confidence,  as  we  advance  nearer  and  nearer  to  the 
end  of  our  earthly  labors.  What  more  we  do  for  Christ 
on  this  side  heaven,  we  must  do  quickly.  O  what  a 
work,  what  a  blessed  and  glorious  work  is  to  be  accom- 
plished by  the  rising  generation,  and  the  next  following. 
I  send  you  a  copy  of  a  plan  of  the  daily  concert,  of  which 
you  can  make  such  use  as  you  please.      Yours  truly, 

Joseph  Emerson. 

This  plan  for  a  daily  concert,  though  devised  by  my 
brother,  was  matured  and  put  in  circulation  by  his  daugh- 
ter. It  is  here  subjoined,  with  a  few  alterations.  The 
most  important  of  these,  is  the  transposition  of  the  sub- 
jects that  had  been  assigned  to  Tuesday  and  Friday ; 
which  is  made  in  compliance  with  the  judicious  sugges- 
tion of  the  present  Secretary  of  the  American  Education 
Society.  This  arrangement  will  be  seen  to  coincide  with 
the  monthly  concert  proposed  by  that  society. 

DAILY  CONCERT  OF  PRAYER. 

"  Pray  without  ceasing."     "  Thy  Kingdom  come." 

Sabbath, — Sabbath  duties  and  privileges,  as  preaching, 
sabbath  schools,  family  instruction,  etc.  etc. 
2  Thes.  3:1. 

Monday, — Conversion  of  the  world  ; — Foreign  missions, 
the  destruction  of  Antichrist,  the  downfall  of 
idolatry,  and  all  false  religion,  and  the  univer- 
sal prevalence  of  peace,  knowledge,  freedom, 
and  salvation.  Bible,  missionary,  and  tract 
societies,  the  cause  of  seamen,  etc.  Ps.  2 :  8. 

Tuesday, — The  ministers  of  the  gospel,  and  all  who  are 
preparing  to  become  such;  and  likewise  so- 
cieties for  the  education  of  pious  young  men 
for  the  ministry.  1  Thes.  5  :  25.  Luke  10 :  2. 


OF    PRAYER. 


381 


Wednesday, — The  rising  generation, — colleges,  semina- 
ries and  schools  of  every  description  ;  the 
children  of  the  church,  the  children  of  the 
ungodly,  and   orphan   children.     Isa.  44 :  3. 

Thursday, — Professing  christians, — that  they  may  much 
more  abound  in  all  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit, 
presenting  their  bodies  a  living  sacrifice,  and 
offering  gladly  of  their  substance  to  the  Lord, 
to  the  extent  of  his  requirement, — that  af- 
flicted saints  may  be  comforted,  backsliders 
reclaimed,  and  hypocrites  converted, — that 
Zion,  being  purified,  may  arise  and  shine. 
Isa.  62:  1. 

Friday, — Our  country, — our  rulers,  our  free  institutions, 
our  benevolent  societies;  forgiveness  of  na- 
tional sins;  deliverance  from  slavery,  roman- 
ism.  infidelity,  Sabbath-breakinJ,  intemper- 
ance, profanity,  etc.  Dan.  9  :  19.  Ps.  67  : 
1,2. 

Saturday,— The  Jews.  Isa.  54  :  8.  Ezek.  36  :  27. 
Also  our  friends. 

The  attention  of  all  who  love  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  is 
earnestly  solicited  to  the  plan  here  presented.  May  it 
not  be  hoped,  that  every  one  into  whose  hands  it  may 
come,  will  at  least  give  it  a  hearty  trial?  Will  the  Re- 
deemer's kingdom  ever  come  until  his  people,  with  humble, 
fervent,  and  united  supplications,  prostrate  their  souls  be- 
fore the  eternal  throne?  Why  lingers  the  work  of  salva- 
tion so  long?  Why  do  such  numbers  perish  from  among 
ourselves?  and  why  do  the  heathen  continue  to  go  down 
to  ruin,  in  countless  multitudes?  Alas!  prayer  is 
wanting; — humble,  believing,  united, persevering  prayer. 
This  is  the  means  which  secures  efficacy  to  all  other 
means — the  mighty  power  to  set  every  wheel  in  motion. 

The  Lord  has  promised,  that  his  glory  shall  be  reveal- 
ed, and  all  flesh  shall  see  it  together.  Beloved  christian 
friends,  do  we  desire  to  see  this  glory  ?  Then  let  agoniz- 
ing supplications  ascend  for  the  upbuilding  of  Zion.  (Ps. 
102:  10.)  Let  our  whole  souls  be  engaged  in  the  work. 
Cherishing  the  deepest  sense  of  our  weakness  and  entire 
dependence,  let  us  humbly  plead  with  God,  remembering 
and  believing,  that  "  he   will   regard   the  prayer  of   the 


382  DAILY    CONCERT 

destitute,  and  not  despise  their  prayer."  Do  we  desire 
our  own  prosperity?  It  is  written,  "Pray  for  the  peace 
of  Jerusalem.     They  shall  prosper  that  love  thee." 

With  regard  to  the  selection  of  subjects,  the  propriety 
of  assigning  the  duties  and  privileges  of  the  Sabbath  to 
that  day,  will  be  obvious  to  all.  How  would  the  hands 
and  the  hearts  of  all  spiritual  teachers,  thus  be  strength- 
ened !  The  subject  for  Monday  was  selected  on  account 
of  its  coincidence  with  the  monthly  concert ; — that  for 
Saturday,  because  it  is  the  Jewish  Sabbath,  the  day  when 
they  still  assemble  to  worship,  to  read  the  law  and  the 
prophets,  and  to  bewail  their  desolations  ; — and  that  for 
Tuesday,  because  the  American  Education  Society  have 
established  a  monthly  concert  of  prayer,  to  be  observed 
by  their  beneficiaries  this  day,  and  some  ecclesiastical  and 
ministerial  bodies  have  recommended  this  concert  to  the 
churches.  There  is  no  reason  for  the  assignment  of  the 
three  remaining  subjects  to  their  particular  days.  They 
should,  however,  hold  a  prominent  place  in  our  supplica- 
tions. The  present  situation  of  "our  country"  loudly 
calls  for  humiliation  and  prayer.  The  "  rising  genera- 
tion" is  a  subject  interesting  to  parents,  teachers,  and 
indeed  to  almost  every  one  in  the  community.  "Chris- 
tians" must  awake  to  their  duties  and  their  responsibil- 
ities, or  the  world  can  never  be  evangelized  ;  and  that 
this  may  be  effected,  the  "pastors,"  the  "watchmen," 
must  be  endowed  with  power  from  on  high. 

The  three  subjects  last  mentioned,  are  rendered  more 
interesting  by  their  connection  with  our  Savior's  injunc- 
tion, "  Pray  ye,  therefore,  the  Lord  of  the  harvest,  that 
he  would  send  forth  laborers  into  his  harvest."  A  great 
multitude  of  our  youth  must  be  excited  to  hear  the  voice 
of  the  Lord,  saying,  "  Whom  shall  I  send,  and  who  will 
go  for  us?"  and  the  churches  must  be  aroused  to  qualify 
and  employ  them.  Prayer  with  corresponding  effort  will 
accomplish  all  this. 

If  this  plan  for  uniting  the  supplications  of  the  chil- 
dren of  God,  should  be  found  inefficient  upon  trial,  will 
not  every  christian  endeavor  to  devise  a  better  ? 

It  should  be  observed,  that  this  concert  is  designed 
either  for  secret  or  family  devotion,  or  both,  and  is  not 
restricted  to  any  particular  hour. 

Those  who  will  engage  to  observe  this  concert  for  one 
month,  are  requested  to  insert  their  names  below.     The 


OF    PRAYER.  383 

method  will  thus  become  familiar,  and  can  then  be  pur- 
sued at  pleasure. 

I  cannot  but  hope  that  much  good  will  result  from  this 
new  species  of  concert.  It  has  much  to  recommend  it ; 
and  I  can  think  of  no  possible  objection  of  any  weight. 
It  is  fitted  to  promote  other  concerts  already  established, 
with  which  it  coincides  in  the  arrangement  of  time.  It 
may  also  prevent  the  injurious  multiplication  of  monthly 
concerts.  I  say  injurious ;  for  it  is  possible  so  to  multi- 
ply such  days  as  to  produce  a  bad  effect  instead  of  a  good 
one.  The  church  of  Rome,  by  filling  the  calendar  with 
saints'  days  and  other  days  for  special  prayer,  destroyed 
all  the  solemnity  of  such  appropriations,  and  much  more 
than  destroyed  it.  Considered  merely  by  itself,  it  might 
be  desirable  to  set  apart  a  day  to  pray  fox  peace  societies; 
and  this  has  already  been  contemplated  by  some.  The 
same  may  be  true  of  many  other  good  objects.  But  will 
not  the  same  ends  be  reached  much  more  safely,  and 
more  certainly  too,  by  adopting  this  daily  concert,  in 
which  such  objects  may  all  have  a  place,  and  may  be 
called  to  mind  four  times  as  often,  and  that  without  de- 
voting any  extra  time.  This  is  a  grand  advantage  of  the 
plan  here  proposed. 

So  exalted  were  my  brother's  views  of  the  importance  of 
this  daily  concert,  and  that  christians  of  all  denominations 
shouJd  be  induced  to  unite  in  it,  that  he  had  formed  a 
plan  of  writing  a  book  on  the  subject,  in  which  he  would 
state  the  objects  of  the  concert,  and  would  treat  exten- 
sively of  each  particular  topic  of  prayer  here  proposed. 
Had  his  life  been  spared  a  year  or  two  longer,  and  his 
health  in  a  measure  restored,  he  would  doubtless  have 
executed  this  plan  ;  but  he  considered  the  subject  too 
vast  to  be  undertaken  amid  the  infirmities  that  had  now 
been  pressing  upon  him  for  many  months. 

Wcthersfidd,  Jan.  in,  1333. 
My  dear  Nephew  E.  E. — Perhaps  my  dear  young 
friend,  I  hardly  need  to  assure  you  of  my  heart's  desire  and 
prayer  to  God  for  your  salvation — that  by  doing  much,  very 
much,  for  the  salvation  of  others,  you  may  secure  your 
own,  to  the  highest  degree.  What  a  blessed  religion  is 
that  of  the  gospel !     It  requires  us  to  bless  ourselves   by 


384  IMMEDIATE    REPENTANCE. 

blessing  others ;  and  the  more  blessings  we  sincerely  con- 
fer, or  attempt  to  confer,  upon  others,  the  more  we  shall 
bless  ourselves.  What  a  glorious  liberty  is  enjoyed  by  the 
children  of  God !  Having  burst  the  galling  fetters  of  their 
selfishness,  their  emancipated  spirits  can  roam  at  large, 
and  send  out  their  glowing  affections  beyond  the  stars. 

My  dear  relative,  if  you  have  not  done  it  already,  I 
wish  you  immediately  to  commence  the  life  of  a  christian  ; 
not  indeed,  to  live  at  the  poor  dying  rate,  that  many  pro- 
fessors do;  but  to  show  yourself  continually  a  consistent, 
ardent,  faithful  follower  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Do 
you  feel,  that  you  must  first  gain  evidence,  that  you  are 
a  christian,  before  you  begin  thus  to  live  a  christian  life? 
But  is  this  possible  ?  Can  you  possibly  gain  evidence, 
that  you  are  a  christian,  before  you  are  really  such  ? — be- 
fore you  begin  to  live  the  christian  life,  as  well  as  exercise 
the  chiistian  temper  1  Begin,  then,  immediately  to  serve 
the  Lord  with  all  your  powers,  and  persevere  in  the  ways 
of  well  doing  ;  and  great  shall  be  your  reward  in  heaven  ; 
great  the  good  which  you  shall  do  to  others,  and  great  the 
glory,  which  God  shall  receive.  Can  you  do  this?  You 
certainly  can.  God  forbid,  that  in  the  name  of  the  Lord. 
I  should  advise  and  entreat  you  to  do  a  work,  that  you 
have  no  power  to  perform.  But  can  you  do  this  of  your- 
self? The  answer  must  be  according  to  the  meaning  of 
the  phrase.  In  a  certain  sense,  you  cannot  walk,  nor 
stand,  nor  exist  of  yourself.  But  in  the  same  sense,  in 
which  you  can  walk  or  stand,  or  desire,  you  can  undoubt- 
edly do  what  God  requires.  But  is  it  an  easy  thing  to 
love  and  serve  God  ?  Certainly  it  is  not ;  especially  for 
those  who  have  long  been  sunk  in  sin,  and  polluted  with 
corruption.  To  the  young  sinner,  it  is  indeed,  not  so 
hard.  But  still  I  am  confident,  it  is  a  great  and  difficult 
work  for  him  ;  and  in  general,  every  day  becoming  more 
and  more  difficult,  while  he  delays  reformation.  This  is 
one  among  several  reasons,  why  every  sinner  should  im- 
mediately arise  and  put  forth  all  his  energies  to  break  off 
sin,  to  turn  unto  God,  and  serve  the  Lord  in  newness  of 
life.  May  we  meet  in  heaven.  I  fear,  we  shall  not  meet 
again  in  this  world.  I  shall  be  exceedingly  interested  to 
hear  from  you,  especially  if  you  should  feel  any  special 
interest  in  the  concerns  of  eternity.     Your  sincere  friend, 

Joseph  Emerson. 


CHAPTER    XX 


HIS    LAST    SICKNESS    AND    DEATH. 

Request  for  the  prayers  of  his  former  people — Sympa- 
thy in  their  loss — State  of  body  anel  mind — Visited 
by  relatives — His  will — Vicics  of  the  millennium  and 
of  the  heavenly  states — Commences  a  memoir  of  him- 
self—  On  zeal  in  preaching;  human  power ;  sacred 
logic;    Watts;  etc. — Last  conversations — Death. 

In  the  title  to  this  chapter.  I  employ  the  term,  "  last  sick- 
ness," for  want  of  a  better.  In  one  sense,  the  first  sick- 
ness of  his  infancy,  was  also  his  last.  He  was  never  well 
after  it.  Nor  was  this  final  assault  of  his  complicated  and 
accumulating  diseases,  very  sudden.  The  incipient  at- 
tacks, as  we  have  seen  in  the  previous  chapter,  had  already 
commenced.  Still,  the  present  is  perhaps  the  most  dis- 
tinctly marked  period  for  commencing  this  last  chapter  of 
his  labors,  joys,  and  sufferings.  Though  life  was  pro- 
longed for  some  months,  he  was  now  prostrate  on  the  bed 
of  dissolution. 

Still,  he  was  far  from  relaxing  his  desire  to  be  actively 
useful,  or  his  sense  of  obligation  to  work  till  the  going 
down  of  his  sun.  When  strength  and  alleviation  from  pain, 
would  permit,  he  sedulously  occupied  his  time  in  dictat- 
ing letters  and  other  compositions.  The  following  was 
addressed  to  Rev.  David  Oliphant,  then  pastor  of  his 
former  church  in  Beverly.  My  brother  had  before  request- 
ed the  prayers  of  his  pious  friends  in  that  place,  in  times 
of  special  sickness. 

Wethers  field,  Feb.  4,  1833. 

My  dear  Brother, — Being  almost  wholly  confined  to 
my  bed,  and  much  exercised  with  rheumatic  pains  and  dys- 
peptic distress,   my  little  daughter  writes  in  my  name.    I 
do  not  despair  of  life ;  and  feel  it  to  be  my  duty  as  well  as 
33 


386  FEELINGS    AND    WISHES. 

my  choice,  to  use  the  most  hopeful  means  of  restoration. 
I  therefore  write,  to  request  your  prayers,  fully  believing, 
that  the  prayer  of  faith  may  still  be  efficacious  in  saving 
the  sick.  This  kind  service,  I  trust,  my  christian  friends 
in  Beverly  will  most  readily  perform.  They  may  be  as- 
sured, that  I  make  this  request  with  great  comfort,  not 
merely  hoping  that  their  prayers  may  be  beneficial  to  me, 
but  absolutely  certain,  that  if  sincerely  offered  through 
the  all  prevalent  Intercessor,  they  will  be  treasured  up  in 
heaven  for  them. 

Perhaps  you  may  wish  to  know  a  little  more  particularly 
the  condition  of  him  who  begs  your  prayers.  I  could  state 
a  hundred  particulars  ;  but  think  it  best  to  mention  a  very 
few. 

I  have  recently  been  happily  free  from  those  dismal 
fears  and  doubts,  by  which  I  have  been  so  often  distressed. 
Still  I  do  not  feel  an  assurance  of  salvation ;  and  I  earn- 
estly desire,  that  God  would  search  me  and  try  me  and 
show  me  my  real  condition.  I  often  feel,  that  if  I  could 
neither  do  nor  suffer  more  in  the  cause  of  the  Redeemer, 
I  should  rejoice  to  die  immediately.  But  still  I  have  an 
earnest  desire  to  live,  if  I  can  do  any  thing  further  for  the 
advancement  of  that  kingdom  which  appears  more  and 
more  glorious. 

Some  works  I  have  begun,  and  projected  others,  which 
if  the  Lord  will,  I  am  exceedingly  desirous  to  accomplish. 
But  I  am  in  danger  of  placing  too  high  an  estimate  upon 
my  own  performances.  Perhaps  there  is  a  need  be,  that 
I  should  be  cut  off  from  these  delightful  performances, 
on  purpose  to  humble  me.  If  so,  Father,  thy  will  be 
done.  May  others  perform  these  labors  in  a  much  better 
manner,  or  other  labors  in  their  stead,  more  useful  still. 
Infinite  Wisdom  may  see,  that  the  labors  of  others  may  be 
much  more  eligible  than  mine,  even  in  my  most  beloved 
field.  It  is  my  joy,  and  sometimes  my  rapture,  that  the 
kingdom  of  Christ  will  come, — that  whether  I  labor  or 
not,  that  glorious  kingdom  will  be  hastened — will  be  es- 
tablished— will  forever  rise  higher  and  higher,  and  shine 
brighter  and  brighter.  Blessed  and  unspeakably  honored 
are  they,  who  are  workers  together  with  Christ  for  such  a 
consummation.  Perhaps  I  have  been  selfish  in  too  much 
coveting  this  honor  for  myself;  but  I  trust,  my  brother,  I 
may  be  excused  in  most  ardently  desiring  it  for  you  and 


WEETING-HOU8E    BURNT.  387 

our  dear  Beverly  friends.  Such  honor,  in  some  degree, 
have  all  the  saints.  Much  more  they  might  have,  if  hum- 
bly engaged,  as  they  should  be.  This  request  you  can 
communicate  to  whomsoever,  and  in  whatever  manner 
your  wisdom  may  dictate. 

You  may  well  suppose,  that  the  great  calamity  which 
has  fallen  most  heavily  upon  you,  was  deeply  affecting  to 
myself;  but  really,  1  have  found  it  more  grievous  and 
trying  than  I  should  have  anticipated.*  Day  after  day 
and  night  after  night,  how  did  the  towering  flames  of  that 
dear,  precious  temple,  glow  and  flash  in  my  tortured  im- 
agination !  What  a  dreadful  sound  in  my  ears,  was  its 
crackling,  crashing  roar!  But  though  fallen  in  youth, 
sunk  in  a  moment  from  its  full  strength  and  undiminished 
beauty,  to  ashes  and  ruin,  it  had  not  stood  in  vain.  And 
I  do  think,  my  Brother,  that  in  relation  to  that  most  de- 
lightful sanctuary,  we  have  much  more  reason  to  sing  of 
mercy  than  of  judgment.  What  heavenly  seasons  have 
we  there  witnessed  and  enjoyed.  How  often  has  the 
glory  of  Good  seemed  to  fill  that  house.  Of  how  many 
will  it  be  said  at  last,  "  This  and  that  man  was  born 
there."  How  many  more  have  there  been  strengthened, 
comforted,  and  quickened  in  their  way  to  glory.  And  may 
we  not  hope,  that  much  seed  there  sown,  that  hitherto  has 
seemed  dead  in  the  earth,  may  yet  spring  up,  and  bring 
forth  fruit  to  life  eternal.  Oh,  that  the  glory  of  the  second 
house  may  be  far  more  resplendent  as  well  as  more  dura- 
ble, not  indeed  in  external  magnificence,  but  by  the  in- 
dwelling of  Christ  and  the  irradiations  of  the  Spirit.  And 
this  most  assuredly  will  be.  Yes,  my  brother,  my  soul  is 
delighted  with  the  prospect  of  the  second  house,  filled  for 
ages  with  millennial  glory,  after  you  and  I  perhaps,  and 
three  or  four  successors,  are  gone  to  our  rest.  I  do  hope 
none  of  our  friends  will  be  ambitious  to  decorate  the  new 
house  with  the  vain  pomp  and  glory  of  this  world.  The 
other  was  just  what  it  should  be. — Love  to  your  family 
and  the  rest  of  our  precious  friends  at  Beverly. 

*  The  place  of  worship,  which  my  brother's    people  erected    about  the 
time  he  took  the  charge  of  them,  was  now   consumed   by  fire,  at  dead  of 

lii'dit. 


38S  FEELINGS, 

Wethersfield,  Feb.  18,  1333. 
My  Beloved  Brother  W. — May  I  not  hope  to  meet 
my  dear  younger  brother  once  more  in  the  land  of  the 
living  ?  If  so,  let  me  beg  of  you  to  hasten  your  journey. 
Since  I  wrote  last,  I  have,  to  appearance,  been  rapidly 
descending  to  the  grave.  I  am  now  unable  to  walk  a  step, 
and  can  scarcely  turn  myself  in  bed.  I  am  not  without 
hope  of  some  relief.  But  my  prospect  is  dim  indeed  in 
relation  to  this  world ;  but  I  do  hope  it  is  brighter  in  rela- 
tion to  the  world  to  come.  O  my  brother,  to  what  a  world 
are  christians  hastening!  What  floods  of  light!  What 
oceans  of  love  !  What  rivers  of  pleasure  !  What  songs  of 
praise  !  What  bursts  of  rapture  !  What  exultations  of  tri- 
umph !  What  an  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory  ! 
Is  it  yours?  Is  it  mine  1  Are  we  hastening  to  that  ineffa- 
ble, inconceivable  bliss!  Is  it  not  better  to  depart,  to  be 
with  Christ,  than  to  grope  and  grovel  as  we  do  in  this 
world  of  imperfection  and  sin  1  In  some  respects  indeed, 
it  must  be  far  better.  But  if  the  eternal  and  glorious  King 
has  any  thing  for  us  to  do  or  to  suffer  here  to  prepare  or  to 
advance  this  amazing  consummation,  it  is  better  on  the 
whole  to  remain,  till  the  last  prayer  is  offered,  till  the  last 
work  is  done,  till  the  last  tear  is  shed,  till  the  last  sigh  is 
drawn.  Come  then,  my  brother,  and  let  us  try  to  comfort 
one  another  with  these  things,  and  by  our  mutual  faith,  to 
prepare  each  other  to  live  and  to  die. 

Wethersfield,  Feb,  19,  1833. 
My  dear  Daughter,  and  dearer  Sister  N. — How 
strange  the  loving-kindness  of  our  God  !  How  wonderful 
his  protecting  care  and  preserving  mercy.  How  much 
beyond  my  hopes,  has  he  multiplied  my  days,  and  added 
to  my  years  !  What  myriads  of  much  fairer  candidates 
for  life,  have  been  swept  away  !  But  alter  so  many  escapes 
and  preservations,  my  time  must  come  to  die,  and  that 
time  appears  near  at  hand.  Within  two  or  three  weeks, 
my  decline  has  been  very  rapid  ;  and  probably  a  few  weeks 
more  will  shut  the  scene.  I  am  wholly  confined  to  my 
bed.  My  more  particular  complaints  are  dyspepsy  and 
rheumatism ;  while  the  whole  system  seems  to  be  shatter- 
ed, and  tottering  to  ruin.  I  hope  divine  grace  has  made 
me  in  some  measure  ready  and  willing  to  die.  I  have  no 
uncomfortable  doubts,  and  on  the  whole   have  much  en- 


DESIRES,    ETC. 


389 


joyment.  My  connections  and  neighbors  appear  to  be  all 
Bympathy  and  kindness;  and  with  earthly  comforts,  my 
cuj)  seems  to  be  overflowing.  If  you  were  here  in  health, 
I  should  have  one  more.  But  I  can  by  no  means  wish 
you  to  attempt  coming,  as  such  a  journey,  at  this  season, 
must  doubtless  be  above  your  bodily  powers.  O  how  en- 
rapturing to  think,  that  after  a  few  short  moments,  we  shall 
meet  in  glory,  to  be  each  other's  rising  joy,  and  ever 
brightening  crown.  And  yet  I  am  not  wholly  without 
hope,  that  we  may  meet  again  in  this  world.  Notwith- 
standing every  forbidding  symptom,  the  Almighty  Physi- 
cian may  say  to  me,  Live.  If  so  I  shall  recover  strength  a 
little,  before  I  go  hence  ;  possibly  he  may  add  to  my  days 
fifteen  years.  Which  should  I  choose  1  I  am  glad  it  is 
not  left  to  my  choice.  God  can  decide  better.  Yet  if  I 
must  choose/  I  should  choose  to  live.  It  is  true  indeed, 
that  heaven  appears  to  me  more  glorious  and  desirable 
than  ever  before ;  but  stiil  more  desirable  to  live,  and  labor 
for  God,  if  he  has  any  tiling  more  for  me  to  do.  O  what 
an  honor,  what  a  privilege,  what  a  bliss,  to  be  workers  to- 
gether with  God  in  the  most  glorious  of  all  his  works.  But 
as  it  respects  ourselves,  the  all-important,  all-absorbing 
point  must  be,  that  whether  present  or  absent,  we  may  be 
accepted  of  him. 

I  have  sent  for  L.,  and  expect  him  in  two  or  three  days. 

I  have  found  the  account  of  Miss  Kingsbury's  sickness 
and  death,  highly  interesting,  and  I  hope  edifying.  How 
delightful  to  see  such  a  youth,  such  a  babe  in  Christ, 
wielding  the  sword  of  the  Spirit — vanquishing  satan — 
driving  back  the  powers  of  darkness,  and  becoming  more 
than  conqueror,  by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  !  What  vast 
amount  of  good  might  it  accomplish,  if  it  were  seriously 
read  by  every  youthful  eye.  But  this  is  too  much  to  hope. 
If  it  could  he  cheaply  and  neatly  printed,  perhaps  a  few 
thousand  copies  might  be  usefully  circulated.  I  should 
not  recommend  placing  it  on  the  list  of  any  regular  series 
of  tracts,  lias  she  not  left  some  wealthy  connection,  who 
will  he  Lrlad  to  defray  the  expense  of  an  edition  for  gratu- 
itous circulation  I 

On  receiving  the  news  contained  in  the  above  letters, 
his  son  and   daughter  and   brother  hastened  to  visit  him. 
I  subjoin  a  few  remarks  from  a  letter  of  this  brother. 
33* 


«syu  ms  will. 

Holies,  March  I,  1833. 
Dear  Brother  R., — I  have  just  returned  from  Con- 
necticut, where  I  left  brother  very  feeble  indeed,  confined 
entirely  to  his  bed.  I  arrived  there  Thursday  noon,  the 
same  day  that  Luther  arrived,  and  remained  until  Monday. 
During  the  whole  time,  we  were  unable  to  get  him  up  but 
once.  I  never  enjoyed  myself  so  well  in  my  life  before,  as 
on  this  visit.  If  possible,  do  visit  him  soon,  or,  I  fear,  you 
never  will  see  him,  till  you  meet  him  in  heaven.  1  think 
it  would  give  new  energy  to  your  soul,  and  comfort  him 
exceedingly.  I  hope  you  will  go,  and  enjoy  a  feast,  which 
shall  never  be  forgotten  through  eternity. 

Yours  affectionately, 

W.   Emerson. 

On  the  receipt  of  this  letter,  I  could  no  longer  think  of 
delaying  my  intended  visit,  to  the  period  of  our  approach- 
ing vacation,  but  hastened  to  see  him  once  more.  Our 
interview  was  such  as  I  had  been  led  to  expect,  except 
that  he  retained  more  energy  of  mind.  I  could  say  much 
upon  the  mingled  affliction  and  strong  consolation  of  the 
trying  scene ;  but  I  leave  the  scanty  space  we  here  have 
to  be  chiefly  occupied  with  other  communications.  I  will 
however  briefly  mention  one  or  two  circumstances,  not 
found  in  the  papers  I  have  yet  to  subjoin.  The  first  has 
respect  to  the  disposal  of  his  worldly  substance  by  will. 
In  this  solemn  transaction,  I  found  his  mind  tranquilly 
employed  at  the  time  of  my  arrival ; — just  as  on  any  other 
matter  of  duty.  He  had  been  ascertaining  the  amount  of 
his  property;  which,  though  not  large,  was  more  than  he 
expected  to  find  it.  From  habit,  he  had  taken  but  little 
thought  for  this  world,  except  when  in  special  danger  of 
want.  His  income  had  been  chiefly  from  his  publications 
and  his  schools.  He  regretted  that  he  had  not  more  en- 
larged his  current  charities,  for  a  few  of  the  previous  years  ; 
but  rejoiced  now  to  find  himself  able,  without  probable  in- 
convenience to  his  family,  to  consign  the  residue  he  was 
still  to  receive  from  his  paternal  inheritance,  amounting  to 
twelve  hundred  dollars,  in  equal  portions,  to  the  four  great 
charitable  societies,  the  A.  B.  C.  F.  M.,  the  Am.  Ed.  So., 
the  Am.  Tr.  So.,  and  the  Mass.  Miss.  So.  Perhaps  few  do- 
nations to  these  noble  institutions  for  the  conversion  of  the 


HIS   APPEARANCE,    ETC.  391 

world,  have  been  given  more  cheerfully,  or  in  more  prayer 
and  faith  for  the  final  success  of  the  glorious  enterprise. 

When  these  arrangements  were  fixed,  he  turned  to- 
other themes,  and  dwelt  on  them,  from  time  to  time,  with 
heavenly  serenity  and  a  foretaste  of  heavenly  joys.  His 
mind  was  as  clear,  and  his  spirit  as  glowing  as  ever;  but, 
through  bodily  weakness,  he  was  not  capable  of  protracted 
effort.  Never  was  he  more  diligent  to  employ  every  mo- 
ment and  every  particle  of  strength  he  had.  Every  act 
was  done  in  view  of  eternity,  and  every  individual  with 
whom  he  conversed,  seemed  to  be  viewed  as  one  whom  he 
was  soon  to  meet  in  another  world.  His  very  counte- 
nance, when  beholding  us,  seemed  sometimes  to  speak 
unutterable  things.  And  still,  to  rather  careless  observers, 
perhaps  his  general  manner,  (always  solemn,  always  ear- 
nest,) would  not  seem  much  if  at  all  changed.  There  was 
a  mild,  an  affectionate,  and  yet  a  penetrating,  a  pervading 
look,  by  which  his  very  soul  seemed  to  come  forth  into  our 
souls,  as  though  to  ravish  them  from  this  world  of  sense 
and  skepticism,  and  bear  them  away  with  itself  to  better 
mansions. 

When  I  came  finally  to  leave  him,  (about  March  14,) 
he  had  gained  a  temporary  relief;  and  I  could  not  but 
fondly  hope,  that  he  would  revne  with  the  opening  spring, 
and  be  spared  for  another  summer. 

Some  of  the  chief  topics  of  his  conversation,  at  this  pe- 
riod, will  be  found  in  the  following  letters  to  his  friends  in 
Bradford. 

Wethers  field,  March  1,  1833. 

Respected  Parents  and  beloved  Sisters, — I  have 
often  regretted,  that  I  could  not  visit  you  more,  for  the 
last  two  years,  and  especially,  that  I  could  not  comply 
with  your  earnest  request  for  my  preaching.  Most  pleas- 
ant to  me,  has  been  your  hospitable  mansion,  for  more 
than  twenty  years.  I  trust  I  have  found  it,  indeed,  the 
house  of (Jod,  and  the  gate  of  heaven;  and  been  much 
aided  in  my  devotions,  by  communion  with  you.  This 
joy,  I  fear  is  not  to  be  repeated  on  earth.  But  I  trust  we 
shall  very  boob  occupy  better  mansions  above.  No  doubt, 
I  shall  take  my  departure  first ;  but,  behold,  you  will 
come  quickly  ;  and  in  a  moment  as  it  were,  (if  our  hopes 
are  sound,)  we  shall  all  be  in  heaven  together. 


392  MILLENNIAL    STATE. 

I  desire  to  be  thankful,  that  hitherto,  I  have  found  this 
bed  of  languishing,  perhaps  of  death,  by  no  means  so 
dreadful,  as  I  had  sometimes  anticipated.  My  bodily 
pains  are  greatly  alleviated.  My  christian  friends  seem 
all  kindness  and  affection.  I  seem  to  have  every  thing, 
that  earth  can  afford  to  comfort  me — and  much  more. 
To  enjoy  a  present,  forgiving,  and  smiling  God,  a  loving 
Savior,  a  Holy  Comforter — what  joys  are  these !  And 
these,  I  hope,  have  recently  been  in  some  measure  mine. 
How  transcendently  excellent  and  lovely,  do  now  appear 
those  doctrines  of  grace  and  glory,  winch  we  have  so  de- 
lighted to  study  and  cherish  ourselves,  and  manifest  to 
others!  A  faithful  and  unchanging  God  lays  the  founda- 
tions of  our  hope,  in  oaths,  and  promises,  and  blood. 
How  unspeakably  majestic  and  glorious,  does  Immanuel 
now  appear,  speaking  to  the  world  in  righteousness^ 
mighty  to  save,  crushing  all  opposition,  and  giving  to  his 
little  flock,  his  long  despised  and  persecuted  saints,  the 
kingdom  and  dominion  and  greatness  of  the  kingdom  un- 
der the  whole  heaven.  And  now,  to  the  eye  of  faith, 
the  millennium  has  come.  O  how  changed,  how  beauti- 
fied, how  raised,  how  glorified  is  this  world  ! — No  longer 
overspread  with  howling,  hissing  deserts,  and  craggy, 
fruitless  wilds,  it  has  become  the  garden  of  God.  The 
bald  mountain,  that  had  been  seared  and  desolate  for 
ages,  is  now  more  productive,  than  Egypt  in  the  years 
of  plenty.  Its  towering  grain  seems  to  rival  the  cedars 
of  Lebanon.  Emancipated  from  millions  of  curses,  which 
had  been  falling  upon  the  ground,  since  the  fall  of  Adam, 
the  earth  now  yields  her  increase ;  and  plentifully  feeds 
and  feasts  her  myriads  of  inhabitants,  that  throng  her 
surface.  These  myriads  are  all  christians,  intelligent, 
knowing,  glowing  with  the  image  of  Christ ;  the  weakest 
as  David,  the  strongest  as  the  angel  of  God;  and  still 
pressing  onward  for  higher  attainments.  Every  eye  beams 
forth  love  ;  and  often  kindles  into  a  brighter  blaze,  by  re- 
flecting the  radiance  of  the  living  stars  around  it.  This 
world,  no  longer  the  sty  of  drunkenness,  the  sink  of  pol- 
lution,  the  theatre  of  crimes,  the  field  of  blood,  has  be- 
come the  very  emblem  of  heaven.  Christ  dwells  in  every 
heart.  In  raptures  of  congratulation,  one  exclaims  to 
another ;  "  Cry  out  and  shout,  thou  inhabitant  of  Zion  ; 
for  great  is  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,  in  the  midst  of  thee." 


HEAVENLY    STATES.  393 

What  anthems  of  praise,  what  bursts  of  rapture,  roll 
round  the  globe. 

Beloved  kindred,  is  not  such  a  prospect  as  this,  suited 
to  kindle  the  most  delightful  emotions?  Willi  the  eye  of 
assurance,  to  look  forward  to  such  splendid  and  enrap- 
turing scenes — to  view  them  as  near,  like  the  radiance  of 
to-morrow's  sun — is  not  this  sufficient  to  smooth  the  pil- 
low of  death,  and  cheer  our  passage  through  the  dreadful 
shade  ?  The  millennium  has  been  one  of  the  most  en- 
dearing comforts  and  cheering  cordials,  through  a  great 
part  of  my  pilgrimage,  more  especially  in  my  confine- 
ment. 

"  But  there's  a  brighter  world  on  high."  Could  we  for 
a  moment  suppose  there  were  not,  all  the  glories  of  the 
millennium,  would  instantly  sink  in  the  blackness  and 
darkness  of  eternal  death.  They  are  but  borrowed  glo- 
ries. The  millennium  will  receive  its  chief  lustre  from 
the  fact  of  its  being  an  emblem  of  heaven,  and  prepara- 
tory to  that  superior  state. 

If  the  eve  of  the  mind  is  dazzled,  if  we  are  almost 
overwhelmed  with  looking  at  the  glories  of  the  millen- 
nium, how  can  we  bear  to  turn  our  views  to  heaven  ?  If, 
indeed,  we  should  be  met  by  the  full  blaze  of  the  upper 
world,  flesh  and  blood  would  sink  in  a  moment.  But 
God  has  kindly  ordained,  that  here  we  should  see  through 
a  glass  darkly  :  that  we  should  see  but  a  part,  a  very  small 
part,  of  the  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory,  to  be 
revealed  and  enjoyed  hereafter.  It  is  deeply  to  be  re- 
gretted, that  many  should  content  themselves  with  know- 
ing almost  nothing  of  heaven,  because  they  can  know 
comparatively  so  very  little.  But  dear  fellow  pilgrims,  I 
do  verily  believe,  that  the  lively  oracles  are  much  more 
full  and  clear  upon  this  subject,  than  christians  have 
generally  imagined  ;  although  compared  with  those  in- 
finite, eternal,  and  ever  brightening  nlories,  the  whole 
that  is  revealed,  is  but  as  the  glimmering  moonbeam. 
How  thankful  should  we  be,  that  God  has  revealed  a 
heaven  to  come,  and  especially,  that  he  has  made  known 
so  many  particulars.  Shall  we,  for  a  few  moments,  com- 
fort ourselves  with  considering  some  of  tin 

Heaven  is  a  real  structure.  It  has  location,  and  is 
not  everywhere  and  nowhere,  as  some  poor  foolish  philos- 
ophers have  vainly  conjectured.     There  is   such  a  fixed 


394 


HEAVENLY    STATES. 


place.  Though  we  know  not  where  it  is  ;  yet  God  knows, 
and  I  trust,  we  shall  know  quickly.  There  is  our  Sa- 
vior, the  very  same  body  that  was  crucified  ;  and  there, 
no  doubt  his  admiring  disciples,  beholding  his  hands  and 
his  feet,  exclaim,  "  Our  Lord,  and  our  God!"  There, 
too,  are  the  perfect  and  glorified  bodies  of  Enoch  and  Eli- 
jah. And  there,  likewise,  is  every  child  of  Adam,  that 
has  died  the  death  of  the  righteous,  arrayed  in  ma- 
terial clothing,  as  appears  certain  from  2  Cor.  5.  For  all 
these,  Jesus  has  prepared  commodious  places.  Heaven 
is  entirely  free  from  sin  and  sorrow.  These  circumstan- 
ces, to  such  unworthy,  suffering,  hell  deserving  wretches 
as  we  are,  cannot  but  be  inexpressibly  delightful.  This 
might  seem  sufficient  to  urge  us  onward  in  our  christian 
course.  But  our  all  gracious  Benefactor,  knowing  our 
disposition  to  loiter,  and  even  to  backslide,  has  told  us 
much  more.  He  has  given  us  much  information,  if  we 
would  but  receive  it,  of  the  positive  joys  of  heaven.  He 
has  most  clearly  shown  us,  that  there  are  three  heavenly 
states.  The  first  before  the  judgment  ;  the  second,  dur- 
ing the  judgment ;  the  third,  the  eternal  blessedness  be- 
yond it.  The  duration  of  the  first,  will  probably  be 
about  370,000  years ;  that  of  the  second,  perhaps  about 
equal.  In  some  particulars,  these  three  are  strikingly 
different ;  in  others,  delightfully  alike.  Both  these  re- 
semblances and  differences  will  no  doubt  conduce  to  raise 
the  beauty,  the  grandeur,  the  glory  and  bliss  of  the  whole. 
It  would  be  delightful  indeed,  by  the  lamp  of  eternal 
truth,  to  investigate  these,  and  consider  each  one  par- 
ticularly. But  for  this,  1  have  neither  room  nor  strength, 
and  can  only  add  a  few  hints.  The  most  endearing  and 
enrapturing  thought  is,  that  they  are  all  complete  in  bliss. 
From  the  beginning  of  the  first,  and  co-extensive  with 
the  endless  ages  of  the  last,  the  joy  of  every  individual, 
will  be  full.  Each  capacity  will  contain  as  much  un- 
mingled  bliss  as  possible,  and  can  only  contain  more,  by 
being  enlarged.  By  such  enlargement,  however,  the  hap- 
piness of  each  one  will  undoubtedly  increase,  from  the 
first  moment  of  his  entering  heaven,  forever  and  ever. 
It  is  highly  probable,  however,  that  this  advance  will  not 
be  perfectly  uniform  ;  but,  that  at  some  times,  they  will 
go  forward  with  a  progress  far  beyond  the  common  rate, 
particularly  in  passing  from  one  heavenly  state  to  another. 


HEAVENLY    STATES.  395 

And  probably,  the  beginning  of  the  third  state,  will  be  as 
much  superior  to  the  first,  as  heaven  now  is  to  the  brightest 
part  of  the  millennium.  The  chief  corner  stone  and  grand 
foundation  of  all  this  happiness,  is  love.  This  is  the  per- 
fect bond,  completely  uniting  together  all  the  holy  natures 
in  heaven,  created  and  uncreated,  seraphic  and  human. 
Love  produces  its  blissful  effects  in  two  ways.  One  is,  by 
being  sensibly  enjoyed,  as  exercised  towards  us  by  others. 
The  more  excellent,  and  more  highly  regarded  by  us,  are 
those  who  love  us,  the  more  endearing  and  enrapturing 
shall  we  find  their  love.  From  this  source  alone,  how  un- 
speakable must  be  the  bliss  of  heaven.  But  this  bliss  will, 
no  doubt,  be  more  than  doubled  by  the  actual  exercise  of 
love  to  others,  in  every  heart.  "  It  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive."  But  there  doubtless  are,  (and  will  be  in 
a  much  higher  degree,)  auxiliary  sources  of  happiness,  that 
will  amazingly  swell,  and  deepen,  and  accelerate  those 
rivers  of  heavenly  pleasures.  The  chief  of  these  may  be 
the  acquisition  of  knowledge.  This,  we  find,  is  delightful 
here,  especially  the  knowledge  of  heavenly  things,  to  a 
heavenly  taste.  Of  this,  what  amazing  acquisitions  will 
be  gained  in  the  judgment  state.  Each  individual  will 
then  learn  the  history  of  all  nations,  in  all  ages,  much 
more  perfectly,  than  we  can  here  learn  the  history  of  our 
nearest  friends,  or  even  of  ourselves.  We  shall  also  learn 
most  clearly  and  particularly,  the  dealings  of  God  toward 
them.  All  this,  no  doubt,  will  furnish  the  basis  of  ever- 
lasting and  ever-rising  meditation ;  which  will  constitute 
another  source  of  happiness.  And  I  have  not  the  least 
shadow  of  doubt,  that  a  most  delicious  fountain  of  joy  will 
be  opened  in  the  communication  of  knowledge  between 
individuals,  and  perhaps  little  companies,  in  social  inter- 
course, especially  in  the  first  heavenly  state.  The  con- 
scious possession  of  treasures  and  treasures  of  information, 
— information  all  correct,  all  useful,  and  relating  to  the 
noblest  subjects, — this  also  must  constitute  an  ever  in- 
creasing source  of  joy,  distinct  from  the  acquisition. 
Another  source  of  heavenly  satisfaction,  is  commun- 
ion of  interest.  This  is  quite  distinct  from  the 
mere  union  of  love,  though  founded  upon  it.  It  is  the 
feeling,  that  no  one  has  a  separate  welfare — that  all  have 
one  common  interest — that  the  whole  universe  is  the  prop- 
erty of  every  individual.     But  next  to  the  reciprocation  of 


396  nEAVENLY    STATES. 

love,  no  doubt  the  highest  source  of  happiness  will  be  the 
visible  display  of  the  divine  glory,  But  here  my  soul 
seems  to  sink  under  the  amazing  theme,  and  I  must  pause, 
and  rest,  and  recover  a  little  strength,  before  1  can  write  a 

word   more. 1  am  now  a  little  revived,  and  perhaps 

could  say  a  few  words  upon  that  transcendently  enraptur- 
ing subject,  but  find  I  have  not  room.  I  must  there- 
fore break  off,  without  finishing  what  I  had  intended. 
Perhaps  I  may  indulge  myself,  with  attempting  a  few 
lines  upon  it,  from  day  to  day,  for  a  week  or  two,  ad- 
dressed to  you.  In  the  mean  time,  it  would  be  very 
pleasant,  to  receive  a  few  lines  from  some  of  you.  But 
especially,  I  will  hope  for  your  intercessions.  It  is  my 
earnest  wish,  to  rise  from  this  bed,  and  do  something 
more  for  the  Lord,  if  he  has  any  thing  for  me  to  do;  if 
not,  I  hope,  I  shall  rejoice  to  depart. 

Yours  most  sincerely,         J.  Emerson. 
By  the  hand  of  Ellen. 

March  12. 

I  am  now  as  comfortable,  as  I  was  a  week  ago,  which 
appears  to  be  a  token  for  good,  and  raises  my  hopes,  that 
I  may  yet  be  restored  to  some  degree  of  strength. 

In  my  last  letter,  I  made  some  remarks  upon  heaven, 
and  now  feel  constrained  to  resume  this  most  ennobling 
and  enrapturing  subject.  In  attending  to  the  causes  of 
heavenly  bliss,  it  appeared,  that  to  vigorous  moral  agents, 
rising  in  mental  perfection,  the  entire  absence  of  sin  and 
pain,  must  be  the  occasion  of  joy  unspeakable.  We  then 
took  a  view  of  some  of  the  positive  causes  of  happiness 
above,  in  connection  with  the  circumstances  under  which 
they  will  operate.  The  causes  mentioned,  are  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  love  of  others ;  the  exercise  of  love ;  the  ac- 
quisition of  knowledge;  the  conscious  possession  of  knowl- 
edge ;  the  communication  of  knowledge  ;  the  communion 
of  interest.  There  are  doubtless  other  causes  of  heavenly 
happiness.  Among  these,  perhaps  the  most  striking  is  the 
visible  display  of  the  glory  of  God.  There  is  doubtless  in 
heaven,  a  visible  radiance  from  the  various  objects  around, 
strikingly  representing  the  excellence  and  loveliness  of 
God,  the  author  of  them  all.  Something  of  this  was  seen 
by  the  three  disciples,  at  the  mount  of  transfiguration ;  and 
by  John,  in  the  isle  of  Patmos.  This  will  appear  most 
illustrious  in  the  body  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  perhaps  but 


HEAVENLY    STATES. 


397 


little  inferior  in  the  glorified  bodies  of  the  saints.  There 
is  a  passage  of  scripture  relating  to  this  subject,  that  is 
most  striking.  2  Thes.  I  :  10.  "  When  he  shall  come  to 
be  glorified  in  his  saints,  and  to  be  admired  in  all  them 
that  believe."  There  is  one  word  in  this  passage,  that 
seems  to  blaze  forth  with  uncommon  lustre.  It  is  the  lit- 
tle word  in.  It  is  worthy  of  special  notice,  that  it  is  not 
here  said,  that  Christ  will  come  to  be  glorified  and  admir- 
ed by  his  saints,  though  this  is  undoubtedly  true.  He 
will  probably  be  glorified  more  by  his  saints,  than  by  any 
other  creatures.  But  he  will  be  glorified,  and  admired  in 
his  saints  ;  as  though  his  glory  should  especially  be  seen 
in  them.  And  this,  no  doubt,  is  the  very  thing  intended. 
11  Then  shall  the  righteous  shine  forth  as  the  sun,  in  the 
kingdom  of  their  Father."  But  they  will  not  shine  forth 
in  their  own  original  brightness  It  will  all  be  derived 
from  Christ.  It  will  all  be  the  glory  of  Christ.  The  glory 
of  Christ,  then,  will  be  most  strikingly  exhibited  in  the 
risen  bodies  of  the  saints.  They  will  be  a  most  illustri- 
ous spectacle  to  the  whole  universe.  The  face  of  every 
saint  will  be  a  minor  to  reflect  the  Savior's  charms.  These 
celestial  mirrors  will  be  so  arranged,  as  to  pour  forth  the 
Savior's  loveliness  upon  the  gazer's  eye,  in  the  best  man- 
ner. Each  saint  will  be  a  mirror  to  the  rest,  as  well  as 
to  angels,  and  probably  to  the  inhabitants  of  millions  of 
worlds.  Heaven  will  be  filled  with  rapture,  while  the  Sa- 
vior is  thus  revealed  in  the  face  of  his  best  beloved.  Auxil- 
iary to  this,  will  be  the  splendid  magnificence  of  heaven, 
the  stupendous  and  amazing  city;  its  pearly  gates,  its 
golden  streets,  its  twelve  fou  idations,  &-c.  &c. 

But  the  spiritual  e\e  of  the  renovated  body,  will  not  be 
the  only  inlet  to  heavenly  pleasure.  At  the  same  time, 
the  enr  will  be  saluted  and  ravished  by  most  melting  and 
r\  ilted  strains  of  music  from  heavenly  harps  and  heavenly 
voices.  The  heavenly  arches  resound  and  re-resound  with 
the  !u_rfi  praises  of  God  and  the  Lamb.  Every  part  of 
heaven  h  made  to  tremble  with  harmonious  vibrations — 
"  nil  but  the  throne  of  God."  The  part  taken  by  each 
one  in  this   amazing  chorus,  will  conduce  to  the  rapture. 

Another  source  of  heavenly  joy,  will  doubtless  be  the 
union  of  tin;  greates-t  j«o<<ibl  ■  variety  of  holy  and  beauti- 
ful objects,  with  the  utmost  regularity  and  harmony.  'As 
there  is  one  <r|ory  of  the  sun,  and  another  glory  of  the 
34 


398  HEAVENLY    STATES. 

moon,  and  various  glories  of  the  stars,  so  also  is  the  res 
urrection.'  Probably,  no  two  saints  will  appear  just  alike, 
and  yet  between  all  those  countless  myriads,  there  will 
doubtless  appear  the  most  striking  resemblances.  The 
varieties  will  be  rendered  still  more  extensive  and  delight- 
ful, by  the  other  inhabitants  of  heaven,  while  the  harmony 
will  remain  forever  unbroken. 

These  celestial  pleasures,  so  far  above  what  we  can  now 
possibly  conceive,  will  never  cloy — but  on  the  contrary, 
will  forever  rise  higher  and  still  higher,  as  heavenly  minds 
expand,  and  the  ages  of  eternity  roll  away.  And  as  this 
happiness  is  proceeding,  may  we  not  suppose,  that  its  in- 
crease is  accelerated  by  the  anticipation  of  sweeter  joys, 
and  nobler  raptures  that  are  still  in  store? — "and  better 
thence  again  and  better  still,  in  infinite  progression?"  But 
I  lose  myself  in  this  amazing  theme.  And  O  how  de- 
lightful, to  be  thus  overwhelmed,  and  lost  in  the  antici- 
pated glories  of  the  world  to  come ! 

Most  cordially  yours,  Joseph  Emerson. 

These  views  of  heaven,  were  not  now  entirely  new  to 
my  brother;  though  he  informed  me,  that  they  had  been 
far  more  definite  and  enrapturing  to  the  eye  of  faith,  than 
at  any  previous  period. 

March  12,  1833. 

Dear  Brother  W. — The  sweet  savor  of  your  visit 
still  remains.  May  it  continue  for  ever.  If  brotherly  in- 
tercourse is  so  delightful   here,  what  will   it  be  in  heaven  ! 

My  health  appears  to  be  about  as  good  as  when  you 
were  here,  which  is  very  encouraging,  and  increases  my 
hope,  that  I  may  yet  be  favored  with  some  degree  of  res- 
toration. 

TO    REV.  REUBEN    EMERSON    OF    SOUTH    READING. 

March  18.  1833. 

I  am  attempting  to  seek  out,  and  set  in  order  some  of 
the  most  important  facts  respecting  our  ancestors.  Have 
you  time  to  afford  me  little  aid  ?  Of  your  willingness,  I 
need  not  inquire.  1  shall  take  the  liberty  to  state  a  few 
queries,  which  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  answer,  as 
far  as  you  find   it  practicable  and  convenient. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  399 

I  hope  it  is  well  with  your  family,  your  people,  and  es- 
pecially with  your  own  spirit.  Though  brought  very  low,  I 
do  not  despair  of  life.  But  I  am  not  solicitous  upon  this 
point.  Thus  far,  I  have  not  found  a  bed  of  confinement 
quite  so  trying  as  I  should  expect.  It  is  sometimes  de- 
lightful. 

The  daily  concert  has  excited  interest  to  a  considerable 
extent.  I  cannot  but  hope,  that  the  result  will  be  most 
glorious. 

God  be  merciful  to  you,  my  brother,  and  bless  you, 
and  cause  his  face  to  shine  upon  you,  that  his  way  may 
be  known  upon  earth,  and  his  saving  health  among  all 
nations. 

The  passage  from  the  Psalmist,  with  which  he  closes 
the  last  letter,  is  one  which  was  much  on  his  mind,  and 
with  which  he  had  closed  many  other  letters  to  different 
individuals.  The  glorious  sentiment  it  contains,  is  that 
which  had  long  filled  my  brother's  heart,  and  now  glowed 
more  intensely  than  ever — "  his  ruling  passion  strong  in 
death."  The  sentiment  is,  that  we  are  to  desire  all  things, 
both  for  ourselves  and  others,  and  especially  the  light  of 
God's  countenance,  to  the  end  that  his  salvation  may  fill 
the  world,  and  the  millennium  be  ushered  in. 

From  the  first  part  of  the  letter,  it  will  be  seen,  that  he 
was  beginning  the  memoir  of  himself,  already  mentioned 
in  the  first  part  of  this  work,  and  to  which  he  designed  to 
prefix  a  sketch  of  his  ancestors.  To  this  work  he  had 
been  advised,  by  some  of  his  friends,  to  turn  his  attention, 
when  they  had  hope  that  he  would  be  spared  for  a  season, 
as  it  seemed  to  afford  a  topic  on  which  his  mind  might  be 
as  agreeably  and  usefully  employed  as  on  any  other,  and 
with  as  little  injury  to  his  frame.  It  was  also  known,  that 
he  was  in  possession  of  many  facts  that  might  be  interest- 
ing to  his  friends,  respecting  his  ancestors  and  himself, 
and  which  no  other  person  would  be  likely  to  collect. 
Had  he  been  spared  to  complete  the  design,  it  would 
doubtless  have  been  a  very  different  work  from  the  pres- 
ent; — probably  much  shorter,  as  containing  none  of  his 
letters  or  former  writings.  It  was  hoped  that  he  would 
give  a  particular  account  of  the  progress  and  changes  in 
religious  doctrine,  female  education,  etc.,  so  far  as  they 
fell  under  his  notice.  But  God  has  blasted  these  hopes, 
and  his  friends  must  submit  to  the  dispensation.     His  own 


400  PREFACE    TO    HIS 

feelings  would  have  revolted  at  the  thought,  that  so  large 
a  book  as  the  present,  should  be  published  respecting  him- 
self. Indeed,  it  was  by  no  means  a  settled  point,  in  his 
mind,  that  his  autobiography  would  ever  be  published, 
should  he  live  to  complete  it;  though  he  hoped  it  would 
at  least  be  useful  to  some  of  his  relatives  and  near 
friends. 

But  his  views  on  this  delicate  subject,  will  be  better 
seen  by  the  few  paragraphs  which  he  designed  as  a  pre- 
face to  the  work,  and  which  he  wrote  at  this  period,  be- 
fore commencing  the  account  of  himself  or  his  ances- 
tors. 

When  it  has  occurred  to  me,  that  possibly,  after  my 
decease,  some  of  my  friends  might  publish  some  parts  of 
my  history,  I  have  felt  my  heart  shrinking  back  at  the 
thought.  How  then  can  I  think  of  writing  a  memoir  of 
myself  for  the  public  eye  1  My  answer  is,  it  appears  to 
be  the  will  of  God,  and  I  dare  not  decline  the  task,  how- 
ever I  may  expose  myself  as  a  mark  to  the  censorious. 
He  has  lately  cast  me  upon  a  bed  of  languishing.  Here 
he  has  given  me  such  views  of  the  glories  of  his  king- 
dom, and  the  importance  of  promoting  it  as  I  never  had 
before.  It  is  no  time  now  to  consult  with  flesh  and  blood, 
or  inquire  how  to  avoid  self-denial,  or  indulge  in  moment- 
ary ease,  or  yield  to  private  feelings  and  notions.  But 
the  deep  language  of  the  heart  must  be,  Lord,  what  wilt 
thou  have  me  to  do  and  to  endure  ?  Command  me  and  do 
with  me  as  seemeth  to  thee  good.  I  would  by  no  means 
unnecessarily  wound  the  feelings,  or  incur  the  displeas- 
ure of  any  one  ;  and  yet  I  would  ever  feel,  that  it  is  a 
small  matter  to  be  judged  of  men's  judgment,  or  even 
condemned  by  the  whole  world,  compared  with  incur- 
ring the  displeasure  of  God.  The  voice  from  heaven 
seems  to  sound  louder  than  ever — "  Whatsoever  thy  hand 
findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy  might."  Though  my 
strength  is  now  weakness  indeed,  most  gladly  would  I, 
if  possible,  do  something,  and  there  seems  to  be  nothing 
else  that  I  can  now  do  so  conveniently  or  so  well.  In 
compliance,  therefore,  with  the  earnest  solicitations  of 
friends,  and  my  own  conviction  of  duty,  I  will  now 
proceed,  if  the  Lord  permit,  to  record  some  occurrences 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  401 

of  my  own  history,  with  such  remarks  as  may  appear 
most  profitable. 

This  memoir  is  more  particularly  designed  for  my 
dear  children  and  kindred;  next  to  them  for  my  beloved 
pupils,  whom  I  have  been  accustomed  to  regard  and  ad- 
dress as  children,  and  who  have  regarded  and  honored  me 
so  much  above  my  claims;  and  finally  for  all  who  may 
be  disposed  to  give  it  a  candid  perusal,  notwithstanding 
its  imperfections. 

I  shall  use  great  plainness  of  speech,  and  freely  in- 
dulge that  frankness  of  communication,  which  my  friends 
well  know  is  one  of  the  most  striking  features  of  my 
character.  This  may  sometimes  become  excessive  and 
faulty.  But  an  attempt  to  restrain  it,  would  doubtless 
occasion  a  greater  fault.  The  peculiar  advantage  of 
autobiography,  consists  principally  in  exhibiting  those 
latent  views  of  the  mind,  those  most  secluded  feelings  of 
the  heart.  Such  works  are  probably  among  the  best  to 
aid  in  the  study  of  metaphysics. 

May  the  searcher  of  hearts  preserve  me  from  every 
thing  erroneous  in  statement  and  useless  in  remark,  and 
may  this  little  work  be  blessed  for  the  advancement  of 
his  kingdom. 

It  was  his  intention  to  write  in  a  style  adapted  for 
publication,  and  then  to  leave  the  practical  question  of 
publication  to  be  decided  by  others. 

But  we  have  yet  some  further  letters  from  his  pen, 
which  claim  our  attention. 

TO    DR.    WOODS. 

JVethersfidd,  March  31,  1833. 
My  dear  Brother, — M  A  word  spoken  in  season,  how 
good  is  it !"  You  will  accept  my  most  cordial  thanks  for 
the  very  kind  words,  which  you  sent  to  me  through  the 
lips  of  my  brother.  They  were  burning  words'  and  are 
burning  still.*     May  the  friendship  that  I  trust  the  Lord 

*  Another  kind  token  of  christian  confidence  which  I  was  commissioned 
to  bear  from  a  much  respected  in« -ml,  seemed  still  more  sensibly  to  touch 
his  feelings,  at  the  time.  "  No!  lost  hut  gone  before,"  was  the  message  j 
Bud  it  went  to  bis  heart.  Indeed,  every  visit  and  every  proof  of  christian 
or  friendly  remembrance,  appeared  now  to  be  more  highly  appreciated  by 
him,  thau  ever  before.     His  heart  itself  was  more  full  of  love. 

34* 


402  ZEAL    IN    PREACHING. 

has  kindled  between  us,  and  constantly  brightened  for 
thirty  years,  continue  to  glow  forever.  What  new  and 
lively  endearments  does  the  near  prospect  of  heaven, 
shed  upon  christian  friendship.  How  precious  the 
words  "  Behold  I  have  called  you  friends."  The  friends 
of  Christ  must  be  friends  of  one  another.  May  you  live 
to  do  more  than  you  have  yet  done.  I  trust  I  shall 
never  envy  you  your  treasure  laid  up  in  heaven,  though 
it  should  be  a  thousand  times  greater  than  mine. 

And  now,  my  beloved  and  most  respected  brother, 
shall  I  presume  to  suggest  a  few  words,  that  may  possi- 
bly conduce  to  render  your  labors  more  efficacious. 
May  I  be  allowed  to  suggest  my  own  experience  ! — My 
ardor,  which  some  may  consider  excessive,  is  not  so 
much  the  result  of  constitution,  as  of  culture  and  circum- 
stances, especially  of  recent  culture.  I  have  lately  been 
astonished  to  find,  that  under  my  gray  hairs,  and  my 
still  more  depressing  infirmities,  I  can  glow  upon  the 
most  important  subjects,  as  suddenly  and  as  intensely  as 
at  twenty,  and  much  more  so.  The  intense  study  of 
poetry,  especially  the  poetry  of  the  bible,  often  reading 
it  to  others  so  as  to  give  it  the  greatest  efTect,  has  been 
perhaps  among  the  most  efficacious  means.  Other 
means  may  perhaps  be  more  efficacious  to  you.  I  need 
not  tell  you,  that  it  is  a  time  of  great  darings,  great 
doings,  and  glorious  results,  and  that  we  have  reason 
to  expect,  that  these  results  will  be  more  and  more  glo- 
rious, till  the  earth  is  filled  with  glory.  But  I  leave  the 
subject,  with  your  conscience  and  your  God,  rejoicing  to 
believe,  that  he  will  direct  and  bless  you,  and  make  you 
abundantly  fruitful  in  good  work,  more  expecting  to 
meet  you  in  heaven  than  on  earth. 

I  have  recently  read  your  third  letter  to  Dr.  Beecher, 
with  deep  interest,  and  almost  unmingled  satisfaction. 
I  do  hope  it  will  prove  extensively  edifying  and  mod- 
erating, especially  to  young  theologians.  If  all  its  parts 
do  not  appear  perfectly  harmonious,  perhaps  the  defect 
is  wholly  in  myself.  In  some  places,  you  seem  to  con- 
cede to  creatures  all  the  power  for  which  I  contend.  In 
other  places,  I  find  expressions,  which  I  should  not  feel 
authorised  to  use.  I  have  by  no  means  strength  to 
search  out  and  state  them.  I  will  take  the  liberty,  how- 
ever,  to    state  a  few   queries,    for   your   consideration, 


HUMAN    POWER,    ETC.  403 

which  possibly  you  may  he  able,  directly  or  indirectly, 
to  answer  tome.  Pressed  as  you  are  with  such  mo- 
mentous duties,  I  can  hardly  expect  you  will  rind  tune 
to  write  to  me  on  the  subject,  though  such  a  discussion 
would  he  most  acceptable. 

Are  sinners  required  to  love  God  with  strength  which 
they  do  not  literally  possess  ?  Have  they  literal  I  v  power 
to  love  God  without  the  special  influence  of  his  spirit? 
If  not,  are  they  culpable  for  this  defect !  Does  not  God 
blame  and  punish  them,  for  not  loving  him  without  such 
influence  ? 

Is  not  holy  love  always  the  fruit  of  the  spirit  ?  Do 
christians  ever  exercise  this  love  without  such  influence? 
But  does  not  God  require  christians  to  love  him  contin- 
ually, whether  they  have  such  influence  or  not  1  and 
does  he  not  condemn  and  punish  them  for  withholding 
such  love,  while,  at  the  same  time,  the  special  divine 
influence  is  withholden  ?  Have  not  both  saints  and  sin- 
ners a  power  to  love  God  ?  (not  indeed  independent  of 
him,  hut)  independent  of  special  influence  ?  a  power, 
which  they  never  use,  but  which  he  condemns  or  punish- 
es them  for  not  using  ? 

Should  we  pray,  that  God  would  literally  enable  us  to 
do  our  duty  ?  Has  he  not  enabled  us  for  this  already  ? 
Have  we  any  scriptural  warrant  for  such  prayer  ?  O, 
that  I  could  see  such  a  discussion  of  these  questions,  as 
you  could  give  them,  by  the  intense  application  of  a 
month.  But  amid  all  our  discussions,  doubts,  perplexi- 
ties, and  darkness,  let  this  be  our  exceeding  joy,  that 
the  truth  is  great,  and  shall  prevail. 

And  now,  my  Brother,  what  methods,  what  new  meth- 
Oths,  shall  he  adopted  for  the  promotion  of  truth  among 
ourselves,  and  throughout  the  christian  world?  How 
exceedingly  desirable,  that  when  we  uive  the  gospel  to 
the  heathen,  it  should  be  pure  gospel.  How  numerous, 
how  great,  how  grievous,  are  the  divisions  among  real 
christians.  Mow  great  must  be  the  errors  of  most,  if 
not  all  of  them.  How  dreadful  the  effects,  Ephraim  en- 
vying Judah,  and  Judah  vexing  Epbraim.  How  lono- 
shall  the  sword  devour.  There  is  in. Led  delightful  evi- 
dence, that  divine  truth  is  advancing — that  christians 
are  approximating  in  opinion  and  feeling.  But  cannot 
something  more  special  be  done  to  hasten  the  blessed 


404  SACRED    LOGIC,    ETC. 

movement  ?  Is  not  the  work  as  important  as  the  temper* 
ance  reformation  1  Might  we  not  hope  for  the  abund- 
ant smiles  of  God,  upon  such  an  enterprize  1  Is  not  the 
time  near  when  the  watchmen  shall  see  eye  to  eye  ? — 
when  great  peace  and  harmony  shall  pervade  the  chris- 
tian world  ?  You  may  recollect,  that  two  or  three 
years  ago,  I  suggested  to  you  the  plan  of  a  sacred  logic, 
supposing  that  you  had  attended  more  to  the  subject 
than  almost  any  other  man.  Such  a  work  seems  to  be 
more  needed  than  almost  any  other.  How  few  know 
how  to  reason  and  investigate.  How  small  a  part  of 
them  do  actually  reason  and  investigate  as  they  might. 
How  exceedingly  do  the  christian  world  need  instruction, 
reproof,  exhortation,  and  most  affectionate  entreaty, 
upon  this  subject.  Who  has  better  advantages  than 
yourself,  for  accomplishing  this  momentous  task  ?  What 
if  you  should  minute  down  thoughts,  as  they  occur  upon 
the  subject,  for  the  course  of  two  or  three  years,  and 
then  devote  one  month  to  writing  a  little  volume,  entitled, 
perhaps,  suggestions  upon  sacred  logic  ?  Such  a  work,  I 
think,  would  circulate  to  great  extent  and  advantage, 
and  prepare  the  way  for  the  larger  and  more  elaborate 
work,  which  I  hope  you  will  live  to  publish.  In  the 
mean  time,  the  same  object  might  probably  be  greatly 
promoted,  by  a  little  work  that  has  long  been  before  the 
public,  if  it  could  be  read  and  studied  one  tenth  part  as 
much  as  it  merits.  It  is  "  Watts  on  the  improvement  of 
the  mind."  This  work,  in  proportion  to  its  size,  is  un- 
doubtedly more  valuable,  for  the  promotion  of  candor, 
faithful  investigation,  and  correct  conclusion,  as  well  as 
for  improvement  in  knowledge  and  mental  culture,  than 
ony  other  human  work  that  has  yet  been  published.  If 
all  our  citizens,  from  12  or  15  to  59  years  old,  should 
faithfully  study  this  work,  or  even  the  tenth  part  of  them, 
how  happy  would  be  the  result.  As  it  is  designed  to  aid 
the  pupil  in  all  his  studies,  should  it  not  be  attended  to 
at  an  early  age  ? — and  as  it  is  designed  to  direct  the 
daily  conduct  through  life,  should  it  not  be  again,  more 
thoroughly  studied,  in  maturer  years  1  Is  it  not  desir- 
able, that  it  should  be  used  in  all  our  winter  district 
schools,  and  in  all  schools  that  are  superior,  and  in  lyce- 
ums  1  And  what  if  it  should  be  introduced  into  colleges  ? 
Is  there  a  single  human  classic  in  one  of  them,  that  is 


HUMAN    POWER,    ETC.  405 

more  worthy  of  such  distinction  1  And  might  not  each 
of  your  students  devote  a  fortnight  to  studying  and  recit- 
ing or  teaching  this  work,  to  great  advantage  1 

Wcthcrsficld,  April  13,  1833. 
My  dear  Son  A. — Your  last  letter  was  very  comfort- 
ing, and  should  have  been  answered  sooner.  For  some 
days  past,  I  have  been  too  weak  and  low  to  dictate  ;  but 
having  recovered  strength  a  very  little,  I  must  attempt 
a  few  lines. 

I  think  my  health  has  been  gradually  sinking  almost 
every  week,  since  I  took  my  bed  eight  weeks  ago,  though 
not  so  fast  as  before.  I  do  not  despair  of  life,  though 
my  friends  have  less  hope  of  me. 

You   have   manifested   much  interest  in  ism,  to 

know  what  it  is,  and  how  far  true.  Your  conduct  in 
this,  I  have  been  rather  disposed  to  commend.  I  should 
rejoice,  if  I  could  now  give  you  some  information  upon 
the  subject.  This  I  shall  attempt,  though  perhaps  with- 
out success.  I  have  studied  this  ism  with  greater  in- 
tensity than  perhaps  any  other,  and  yet  may  still  be 
less  acquainted  with  it.  As  the  result  of  my  investiga- 
tions, I  would  present  you  with  the  following  as  chief 
items. 

Sinners  can  repent  without  the  special  grace  of  God  ; 
but  never  do.  The  nature  of  mankind  by  which  they 
are  children  of  wrath,  consists  in  their  innocent  natural 
appetites,  which  in  time,  always  suggest  motives  which 
occasion  sin  and  moral  death.  God  has  willed  the  ex- 
istence of  all  sin,  and  yet  every  sin  is  contrary  to  that 
will.  No  sinner  ever  uses  the  means  of  regeneration, 
while  a  rebel  against  God.  In  regeneration,  the  sinner's 
wickedness  is  gradually  reduced  to  nothing.  He  then 
uses  the  means  of  regeneration,  but  not  for  any  Length 
of  time.  Sometimes  regeneration  then  takes  place,  at 
the  very  instant  that  the  means  begin,  though  in  the 
order  <>i'  nature  considered  as  after.  Sometimes,  after 
the  sinner  is  brought  to  this  point,  he  returns  again  to 
his  sins,  and  is  not  then  regenerated.  The  spirit  of  God 
never  operate-  directly  upon  the  heart  of  the  sinner,  but 
only  upon  the  truth  or  upon  the  motive,  so  as  to  give  it 
an  overpowering  efficacy. 


406 


METAPHYSICS    AND    HEAVEN. 


Crocker  and  Brewster  have  informed  me,  that  they 
are  willing  to  publish  my  outline  as  far  as  I  have  com- 
pleted it,  namely  through  the  O.  T.  They  wish  you  to 
come  to  Boston,  to  spend  perhaps  three  or  four  weeks 
in  advising  with  them  and  correcting  the  proofs.  Can 
you  think  of  going  ? 

Possibly  it  may  seem  strange  to  some,  that  my  brother 
should  come  down  as  it  were  from  the  visions  of  heaven, 
to  speak  again  with  interest  on  topics  of  metaphysical 
divinity.  Not  so,  however,  to  those  more  acquainted 
with  the  genius  of  his  character,  and  the  cast  of  his  pious 
feelings.  And  we  should  fail  to  give  a  just  view  of  these 
feelings,  were  we  to  omit  such  a  trait.  The  truth  is, 
that  metaphysics,  and  especially  metaphysical  divinity, 
however  regarded  or  treated  of  by  some,  was  never  a 
matter  of  dry  or  unfeeling  speculation  with  him.  He 
could  treat  of  it  in  the  next  sentence  after  speaking  of 
the  millennium,  or  missions,  or  heaven;  and  that  in  a 
kindred  strain  of  language  and  feeling; — and  all,  for  the 
very  good  reason,  that  in  his  mind,  the  relation  between 
these  things  was  no  very  obscure  or  remote  one.  What- 
ever is  true  in  christian  theory,  he  expected  to  find  more 
clear  and  glorious  in  that  heaven  where  he  hoped  to 
meet  Solomon,  and  Paul,  and  Augustine,  and  Calvin, 
and  Edwards  : — and  whatever  is  false,  he  would  gladly 
bear  his  dying  testimony  to  banish  from  a  darkened  and 
sinful  world  :  And  all  this,  with  much  good  will  towards 
those  from  whom  he  differed — and  deeply  sensible,  too, 
that  himself  might  be  much  in  the  wrong.  '  Nothing 
pertnining  to  man,  did  he  consider  foreign  to  himself,' 
whether  in  life  or  death.  In  a  word,  his  most  exalted 
pious  feelings  were  as  rational,  sober,  practical,  as  they 
were  ardent : — no  heat  without  light ;  no  light  without 
heat.  Nor  did  he  regard  the  act  of  dying  as  so  very 
different  from  living,  that  he  must  now  break  off  all 
thoughts  and  all  converse  on  the  more  common  topics 
of  life.  Heaven  and  earth  had  been  too  familiar  in  his 
contemplations,  to  call  for  any  abrupt  or  affrighted  sund- 
ering, as  death  drew  near.  The  rainbow  of  hope  had 
too  long  held  them  in  sacred  and  delightful  association. 


SINKING    TO    THE    GRAVE.  407 

But  we  must  attend  him  onward  as  he  sinks  toward 
the  grave  ;  or  rather  as  lie  rises  toward  the  better  world. 
And  it  must  now  be  without  his  pen  to  mark  the  way. 

The  following  is  from  Rev.  Dr.  Hawes  of  Hartford. 

Hartford,  April  19/A,  1833. 
My  dear  Brother, — I  visited  your  brother  yesterday, 
and  found  him  very  low.  He  sent  for  me  with  a  view  of 
having  some  conversation  with  me ;  but  was  able  to  say 
but  very  little.  I  think  he  can  continue  but  a  short 
time.  Indeed  I  should  not  be  surprised  to  hear  of  his 
death  at  any  hour.  I  found  him  in  a  very  desirable  frame 
of  mind — dying  as  we  should  expect  one  of  his  habits  of 
mind  and  heart  would  die.  As  Dr.  Tenney  is  in  feeble 
health,  I  have  been  requested  to  perform  the  funeral 
service,  whenever  the  sad  hour  shall  come.  I  write  to 
request  you  to  send  me  such  facts  and  statements  re- 
specting your  brother,  as  you  think  proper.  My  ac- 
quaintance with  him  is  limited.  I  know  almost  nothing 
of  his  early  history.  He  wished  me  not  to  say  much 
about  him.  He  said,  there  were  four  or  five  topics  con- 
nected with  his  life,  which  might  be  insisted  on  with 
profit,  and  desired  that  for  the  benefit  of  others,  I  would 
enlarge  upon  tbem,  and  say  little  in  the  way  of  eulogy. 
This  is  right  ;  and  I  bless  God  with  all  my  heart  for  this 
new  triumph  of  his  grace  in  your  beloved  brother.  In 
great  haste,  yours  in  the  best  of  bonds. 

J.  Hawes. 

I  am  well  aware  that  an  undue  stress  may  be  laid  on 
the  last  words  of  the  dying.  My  brother,  too,  was  sensi- 
ble of  the  same,  and  introduced  the  topic,  of  his  own  ac- 
cord, when  I  last  saw  him.  He  hoped  that  none  would 
do  this  in  his  case.  Still,  the  desire  to  know  the  manner 
in  which  our  friends  die,  is  so  natural,  so  strong,  and  so 
innocent,  that  I  eannot  feel  justified  in  withholding  the 
following  memoranda.  Part  of  them  were  transmitted 
to  me  at  the  time,  by  Mrs.  E.  who  was  then  on  a  visit  to 
him  and  other  friends  in  Connecticut. 

Wetkersfitld,  April  25   1833. 
My  dear    ITi'snANn, — I  arrived   here  this  afternoon, 
and  find  Irother  a  little  ie\i\ed,  though  he  does  not  look 


40S  LAST    CONVERSATIONS. 

much  like  your  own  brother  Joseph.  I  have  been  here 
more  than  an  hour,  and  all  he  has  yet  been  able  to  say 
to  me  is,  that  he  is  very  glad  to  see  me  again,  this  side 
of  heaven.  He  held  me  awhile  by  the  hand,  and  then, 
with  a  cheerful  air,  showed  me  his  emaciated  hand  and 
arm.  He  wished  to  dictate  a  message  to  you,  but  finds 
himself  too  feeble. 

April  26,  1833. 

Brother  lies  quiet  and  tranquil,  as  if  asleep,  most  of 
the  time,  and  only  rouses  himself  up  to  express  his  wants. 
His  last  effort  was  dictating  an  answer  to  a  piece  in  the 
Recorder  on  the  danger  of  precocity.  This  piece  he 
feared  would  do  much  evil ;  and  he  made  an  effort  in 
reply,  which  N —  thinks  materially  injured  him. 

As  we  began  to  read,  before  prayer,  this  morning,  the 
60th  chapter  of  Isaiah,  he  requested  that  the  reader 
should  sit  facing  him,  that  he  might  hear  distinctly. — 
When  I  went  to  him,  he  said,  "  tell  Brother,  that  I  have 
attended  to  Boston's  Fourfold  State,  and  found  the 
account  of  heaven,  in  the  latter  part,  extremely  animat- 
ing and  exhilarating.  The  fourth  part  is  a  most  admir- 
able thing." 

Evening.  I  have  just  been  to  brother's  bed-side,  and 
he  said,  'I  think  I  can  converse  a  little.'  1  inquired, 
Have  you  much  pain  1  'A  good  deal  of  distress  all  about 
me,  but  not  much  severe  pain.'  Do  you  not  have  a  hap- 
py state  of  mind  1  «  Very  comfortable,  but  not  many 
raptures;  some'  You  can  say  with  the  Psalmist,  In  the 
multitude  of  my  thoughts  within  me,  thy  comforts  delight 
my  soul  ?  *  There  are  a  great  many  more  than  I  sup- 
posed.' Comforts  resulting  from  the  promises  and  provi- 
dence of  God?  'From  innumerable  sources.'  The 
chapter  that  was  read  this  morning,  is  precious.  »  I  do 
not  recollect  it.'  Arise,  shine,  etc.  "  I  have  thought 
of  that  chapter  a  great  deal,  and  read  it  more  than  any 
other,  for  thirty  years.  The  latter  part  is  the  best.'  I 
the  Lord  will  hasten  it  in  its  time  ?  ■  Yes. — I  have  had 
views  of  the  plan  of  salvation,  that  I  suppose  a  person 
would  not  have  that  had  not  studied  into  it.  It  is  great 
and  glorious.  Its  greatness  in  every  part,  and  as  a 
whole,  is  astonishing.  A  person  values  a  mass  of  gold 
in  proportion  to  its  amount.     He  must  examine  it,  in 


LAST    CONVERSATIONS.  409 

order  to  see  how  great  the  quantity  is.  I  have  recently 
had  such  views  of  this  plan,  as  I  never  had  before.  It 
is  amazing.' 

After  a  pause,  he  said,  '  For  three  or  four  years,  and 
particularly  of  late,  I  have  thought  much  of  the  heavenly 
states.  I  have  never  seen  this  subject  discussed  in  books  ; 
but  it  appears  glorious  to  me.  The  first  is  that  which 
departed  saints  now  enjoy  ;  the  second  is  the  heaven  of 
the  judgment  day  ;  and  the  third  is  after  the  judgment ; 
which  will  be  as  much  more  glorious  than  the  present 
enjoyment  of  the  saints  in  heaven,  as  this  exceeds  the 
millennium.'  I  said  it  may  be  necessary  to  wait  till  all 
the  souls,  to  whom  our  influence  shall  extend,  are  con- 
verted  to  God,  to  know  how  to  assign  our  reward  ;  and 
this  cannot  be  made  manifest  until  the  end  of  the  world. 
He  replied,  '  I  suppose  it  is  so.  But  a  thousand  indi- 
viduals may  have  been  instrumental  in  converting  one 
soul,  and  the  influence  of  that  soul  may  extend  to  a 
thousand  more.'  Your  mind,  I  suppose,  is  much 
occupied  with  the  plan  and  promises  of  God.  'Yes; 
especially  the  promises.'  And  prayer  ?  *  I  have  sweet 
communion  with  God.  But  I  do  not  think  I  have  such 
a  spirit  of  secret  prayer,  as  many  have.'  I  suppose  Christ 
in  connexion  with  the  plan  of  salvation,  appears  glori- 
ous. ■  Yes,  in  connexion.  All  is  glorious  and  perfect 
and  harmonious.  I  am  naturally  fond  of  system ;  and 
now  the  perfect  union  and  symmetry  and  harmony,  which 
I  behold  in  every  part  of  the  work  of  redemption,  great- 
ly delight  me  ; — the  union  of  the  sacred  Three,  and  all 
the  other  parts  of  the  stupendous  whole.  Most  christians 
do  not  think  of  this  symmetry  so  much  as  they  ought. 
Some  see  one  bright  spot,  and  some  another.  The  sev- 
eral parts  of  the  New  Jerusalem  are  all  bright;  its  gates 
of  pearl,  r  -  of  gold,  and  the  Lamb  for  the  light 

Thereof.  But  all  united,  they  are  exceedingly  glorious. 
The  glories  of  systematic  divinity,  have  been  constantly 
rising  in  my  mind.  Some  think  systematic  divinity  a 
mere  speculation.  To  me,  it  is  glorious  reality.  The 
glories  of  poetry,  also,  and  music,  and  communion,  have 
equally  risen  in  my  view.  Some  regard  systematic  di- 
vinity as  an  iceberg.  The  glories  of  Andover  will  rise 
much  higher?  for  its  attention  to  systematic  divinity.' 

35 


410  LAST    CONVERSATIONS. 

Saturday  morning,  April  27.  Brother  is  very  feeble 
this  morning.  As  I  was  taking  leave  for  Colebrook,  he 
said,  '  I  hope  we  shall  be  better  when  we  meet  again.' 

The  following  memoranda  are  communicated  by  his 
daughter  N.  who  was  by  him  most  of  the  time  after  her 
return  from  Ipswich. 

May  6. — Monday  evening.  Do  you  have  clear  views 
of  heaven  ?  "I  think  I  have  very  clear.  I  long  to  be 
gone."  Then  you  feel  better  than  you  did  yesterday. 
11  Yes.  I  want  you  all  to  go  with  me."  Is  there  any 
thing  you  want  to  say  to  A.  and  E.  if  you  should  not  see 
them  again  1  "I  can't  talk.  They  must  be  ministers 
and  missionaries." 

May  7.  Tuesday  evening.  Do  you  enjoy  the  light 
of  God's  countenance  ?  "I  feel  happy.  There  is  a 
glory  I  can't  try  to  express."  I  did  not  know  but  God 
would  take  you  to  himself  last  night.  It  may  be  that  he 
is  sparing  you  to  do  or  say  something  more  for  him.  "  I 
shall  not  say  much.  I  can't  talk  :  you  must  not  urge  me. 
[Right.]  You  have  no  idea  of  the  prostration."  You 
feel  now  as  though  you  could  not,  but  God  may  give  you 
strength.  "  You  can't  have  my  last  end  as  you  wish. 
It  will  be  as  God  chooses."  To  depart  and  be  with 
Christ,  is  far  better.  He  opened  his  eyes.  "  What,  said 
he  ?"  The  apostle  said,  having  a  desire  to  depart.  Do 
you  like  to  have  me  repeat  the  promises  1  "  They  are 
as  familiar  as  A,  B,  C.  I  have  no  more  doubt  of  them 
than  I  have  that  you  love  me.  It  is  a  reality  and  heav- 
en is  mine.  It  is  a  reality."  I  felt  last  night  that  I 
could  not  mourn  for  you — that  I  should  feel  more  like 
rejoicing.  "  I  should  like  to  close  my  eyes  in  death  and 
sink  in  glory ;  but  I  should  rather  live.  I  want  to  do 
something  for  the  millennium.  It  is  deepest  in  my 
heart." 

One  evening  when  the  bell  was  ringing  for  meeting, 
he  said  to  me,  "  I  was  just  thinking  I  should  like  to  be 
in  the  pulpit.     It  is  better  to  be  there  than  in  heaven." 

The  next  is  communicated  by  the  "  friend"  who  kind- 
ly came  to  visit  him. 


HIS    DEATH.  411 

Friday  evening  before  his  death,  May  10,  a  friend 
from  a  distance  called  to  see  him.  He  had  said  but 
little  for  some  days.  His  spirits  seemed  to  be  much 
raised.  His  friend  said,  I  am  very  happy  to  find  that 
God  is  as  good  as  his  word,  and  that  you  enjoy  such 
rich  consolations.  He  replied,  with  great  animation, 
"  More  than  that,  more  than  that.  I  can  never  describe  the 
consolations  I  have  here  experienced  on  this  bed.  Far 
more  exceeding  and  eternal,  ever  increasing  weight  of  glo- 
ry. I  shall  talk  with  you  about  it  in  heaven.  Never  did  1 
have  such  a  desire  to  live  as  I  now  have."  A  friend 
present  added,  "  nor  I  presume  such  a  desire  to  die." 
11  No.     I  never  understood  Paul's  strait  before." 

On  Sabbath  morning,  he  was  able  to  converse  for  some 
time.  The  dying  words  of  Hooker  were  read  to  him, — 
"  Though  I  have  loved  thee  in  my  youth,  and  served 
thee  in  my  age,  yet  if  thou  Lord  shouldest  mark  iniqui- 
ty, who  could  stand,"  etc.  He  seemed  to  be  delighted 
with  the  sentiments,  and  said,  "It  is  precious."  A  friend 
observed,  that  Melancthon  wished  to  die  that  he  might 
understand  the  mystical  union  in  the  character  of  Jesus 
Christ.  He  replied,  "  I  know  nothing  in  the  bible  that 
warrants  us  to  expect  we  shall  understand  that  great 
mystery,  even  in  heaven." 

Mrs.  E.  again  writes : 

JVcthersfield,  May  16,  1833. 
After  an  absence  of  a  little  more  than  a  fortnight,  I 
again  find  myself  in  this  consecrated  study  of  our  dear, 
but  now  departed  brother.  After  I  left  him,  he  con- 
tinued gradually  to  grow  weaker.  There  was  no  sensi- 
ble alteration  in  him  at  any  one  time,  until  Monday 
afternoon,  when  he  appeared  more  distressed,  especially 
in  his  limbs,  but  not  at  all  about  the  chest.  He  was 
then,  for  the  only  time,  during  his  sickness,  a  little  inco- 
herent in  his  remarks.  This  was  his  last  painful  strug- 
gle. At  evening,  he  appeared  free  from  pain,  and 
slept  quietly  as  ran  infant.  About  twelve  o'clock, 
after  several  ineffectual  attempts  to  wake  him,  one  of 
the  watchers  called  Nancy.  She  arose,  and  after  trying 
in  vain  to  awake  him,  called  her  mother,  who  came  im- 
mediately.     He   did  not  breathe  after  she   came ;  but 


412 


RKFLKCTIO.VS. 


gasped,  and  was  gone  so  gently,  that  they  hardly  knev 
when.  There  was  no  clammy  sweat ;  the  flesh  felt 
warm  and  natural ;  and  even  now  he  seems  not  like  the 
dead,  but  rather  as  '  one  that  hath  fallen  asleep.'  Yet  he 
is  so  exceedingly  emaciated,  that  only  his  hair,  his  fore- 
head, and  his  eyebrows  retain  their  former  appearance. 

I  heard  from  him,  while  at  Norfolk,  last  Saturday. 
One  who  had  seen  him,  said,  he  was  just  able  to  whisper, 
11  Peace  ; — more  than  peace."  Mark  the  perfect  man, 
and  behold  the  upright,  for  the  end  of  that  man  is  peace. 
I  should  have  seen  him  again  alive,  had  not  an  unexpect- 
ed delay  prevented  my  coming  on  Monday. 

How  solitary  is  now  this  house,  and  especially  this 
study,  where  I  am  writing.  This  apartment,  as  you 
know,  was  so  peculiarly  his  home,  that  when  returning 
from  abroad,  never  did  he  feel  himself  at  home,  till  here 
seated  by  his  table,  in  his  own  simple  chair.  His  re- 
mains have  just  been  carried  from  this  chamber,  prepar- 
atory to  the  last,  sad  solemnities.  I  stood  here  this  morn- 
ing, and  surveyed  those  lifeless  remains.  I  looked  on 
his  precious  volumes,  and  the  various  conveniencies  of 
his  invention,  all  arranged  by  his  own  hand  in  the  fittest 
manner  to  facilitate  his  studies — his  precious  bible,  Scott, 
dictionaries,  etc.,  being  placed  within  reach  at  his 
table — his  maps,  charts,  and  book-shelves,  lining  the 
walls — all  that  seemed  needful  to  the  immortal  mind. 
As  I  thus  pensively  beheld  the  scene,  the  thought  came 
to  me  powerfully  ;  "  This  choice  scaffolding  is  now  of 
no  further  use  to  the  structure  it  has  aided  in  rearing. 
The  immortal  spirit  lias  received  its  last  finishing  touch 
on  earth,  and  is  gone  to  the  world  of  perfection."  Nev- 
er before,  on  the  departure  of  a  friend,  had  I  so  lively  a 
feeling,  that  the  freed  spirit  is  now  ranging  in  ecstacy, 
among  unutterable  glories,  and  has  nothing  to  do  with 
these  scenes  which  so  much  engage  our  attention  and 
affect  our  hearts. 

The  funeral  is  to  be  attended  to-morrow.  Dr.  Hawes 
is  to  preach,  as  Dr.  Tenney  is  too  feeble. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 


VIEWS    OF    HIS    CHARACTER. 


Communications  from  Lieut.   Gov.  Armstrong — Dr.  Cho- 
pin— Dr.  Hawcs — Miss  Lyon — Miss  Grant — and  Dr. 
Tcnney. — Remarks. 


This  closing  chapter  will  be  chiefly  occupied  with 
communications  from  a  number  of  my  brother's  intimate 
friends.  They  will  afford  a  more  complete  exhibition 
of  his  character,  as  developed  in  the  different  relations 
of  life.  In  my  selection  from  a  larger  number  that  have 
been  forwarded,  I  have  had  chiefly  in  view,  to  guard 
against  repetition.  For  the  same  reason  I  have  omitted 
some  passages  in  the  pieces  here  presented.  Still  it  has 
not  been  found  practicable  entirely  to  avoid  the  repeti- 
tion of  some  facts  and  remarks,  without  either  omitting 
others  which  are  new  and  important,  or  so  marring  the 
composition  as  to  do  injustice  to  the  writer. 

I  might  have  embodied  the  substance  of  these  commu- 
nications in  my  own  language  ;  but  it  has  appeared  to 
me  an  act  of  stricter  justice  to  my  kind  correspondents, 
and  also  fraught  with  greater  interest  and  profit  to  the 
reader,  to  insert  the  original  compositions;  and  thus 
preserve  the  authenticity,  and  the  air  of  freshness  which 
such  compositions  alone  can  convey.  The  first  is  from 
His  Honor,  Lieut.  Gov.  Armstrong,  with  whom,  while 
in  active  business,  my  brother  was  chiefly  concerned  in 
respect  to  the  publication  of  his  own  works,  and  those 
of  some  other  men  which  he  deemed  of  special  utility  to 
the  christian  public. 

35* 


414 


FROM    LIEUT.    GOV.    ARMSTRONG. 


Boston,  Sept.  15, 1833. 

My  Dear  Sir, — I  became  acquainted  with  your 
brother  Joseph,  about  the  year  1810 ;  and  to  the  day  of 
his  death,  I  cherished  for  him  the  respect  and  love  due 
to  a  sincerely  good  man.  Our  acquaintance  commenc- 
ed with  the  publication  of  the  Evangelical  Primer ;  a 
work  which,  scattered  by  thousands  over  the  land,  will 
convey  to  many  yet  to  come  upon  the  earth,  an  idea  of 
the  useful  application  of  his  peculiar  talent  in  the  incul- 
cation of  divine  truth  upon  tender  minds.  Mr.  Emerson 
seemed  to  comprehend  well  what  was  intended  by  the 
Savior's  command  to  Peter,  "  Feed  my  lambs." 

As  long  as  his  connexion  with  the  church  in  Beverly 
continued,  I  had  the  opportunity  of  frequent  interviews. 
His  counsel  and  advice,  I  have  sought  and  received.  In 
the  year  1815,  I  began  an  edition  of  Scott's  Bible,  on  a 
new  plan  I  had  devised,  omitting  the  marginal  refer- 
ences. In  this  enterprize,  notwithstanding  many  and 
persevering  efforts  on  my  part,  I  received  little  aid,  until 
the  first  volume  was  published.  But  among  the  very 
few  who  encouraged  the  work  in  its  earliest  stages,  was 
your  brother.  From  him,  I  received  advice,  and  much 
substantial  aid  in  promoting  its  sale.  Indeed,  if  the  cir- 
culation of  Scott's  Bible  is  a  good  work,  a  useful  labor, 
then  may  Mr.  Emerson  be  entitled  to  the  praise  of 
having  done  much  good  work,  much  useful  labor;  for 
no  one  person,  not  a  professed  agent  for  the  sale  of  this 
work,  has  disposed  of  so  many  copies  directly ;  besides 
the  many  copies  for  which  his  recommendation  has 
created  a  demand  in  and  out  of  New  England. 

At  one  time,  we  had  the  pleasure  to  entertain  him, 
for  several  weeks,  at  our  house.  His  conversation  was 
always  improving ;  his  knowledge  of  men  and  of  things, 
was  not  small,  and  this  knowledge  was  imparted  freely  ; 
but  never  have  I  heard  him  speak  a  word  of  reproach  of 
any  one.  I  do  not  indeed  claim  for  him,  what  he  would, 
I  doubt  not,  be  the  last  to  claim  for  himself,  a  freedom 
from  the  frailties  of  our  nature ;  but  a  more  humble, 
prayerful,  devout,  consistent,  useful,  christian,  I  have  not 
known  nor  do  I  expect  to  know. 

Of  Mr.  Emerson's  judgment  in  respect  to  books,  I 
have  often  availed  myself,  with  great  advantage.  It  was  a 
judgment  on  which  I  much  relied.  His  good  sound  com- 
mon sense,  freedom  from  prejudice,  and  disinterestedness, 


FROM    LIEUT.    GOV.    ARMSTRONG.  415 

united  with  fidelity  and  love,  made  him  a  counsellor  to 
me,  in  the  way  of  business,  that  I  highly  valued. 

He  was  a  man  eminently  of  good  devices  ;  scarcely  have 
I  known  him  make  me  a  visit,  even  though  it  were  short, 
in  which  he  did  not  propose  some  plan  to  increase  the 
number  of  readers  of  the  Bible,  or  students  of  the  other 
works  of  God  ;  some  plan  to  render  simple  that  which 
is  abstruse,  or  attractive  and  alluring  that  which  is  good. 
Indeed  from  the  effect  of  his  preaching,  his  books,  his 
conversation,  and  his  life,  I  have  considered  him  as  one  of 
the  '  wise  who  shall  shine  for  ever  as  the  brightness  of 
the  firmament,  having  turned  many  to  righteousness.' 

I  had  the  happiness  of  considering  him   among  my 
friends  on   earth;  and   contemplating  the   past  and  the 
future,  1  would  say,  Farewell,  farewell,  but  not  forever. 
Yours  truly  and  affectionately, 

Samuel  T.  Armstrong. 

I  shall  next  present  the  latter  part  of  a  letter  from 
Pres.  Chapin.  The  first  part  has  already  been  given, 
at  the  close  of  my  brother's  college  life. 

In  two  things,  your  brother  did  more,  perhaps,  than 
any  one  man  in  New  England — in  awakening  an  inter- 
est in  the  biblical  instruction  of  children  and  youth  of 
both  sexes,  and  in  the  literary  education  of  young  fe- 
males. His  scriptural  catechism  was  published  more 
than  twenty  years  ago,  and  was  among  the  first,  if  not 
the  very  first,  of  the  numerous  similar  publications 
which  have  appeared.  My  impression  is  that  it  has 
spread  more  widely,  and  has  done  more  good,  than  any 
other  little  work  of  the  same  kind,  of  modern  date. 

The  opening  of  his  school  in  Byefield,  may  be  con- 
sidered as  an  era  in  the  history  of  female  education. 
His  labors  there,  at  Saugus,  and  at  Wethersfield,  have 
given  an  impulse  to  this  all-important  interest,  which 
will  continue  to  be  felt  in  future  generations. 

The  life  of  a  scholar  of  distinguished  talents  and  at- 
tainments, to  entirety  and  successfully  devoted  to  the 
religious  and  literary  education  of  children  and  young 
females,  ought  to  be  set  out  in  bold  relief.  Who  can 
estimate  the  good  which  maj  result  from  his  labors  in 
future   ages,   and   distant   regions.       While   the    lives   of 


416  FROM    DR.    HAWES. 

such  men  are,  in  this  world,  greatly  underrated,  they 
will  in  the  future,  receive  their  full  meed  of  honor  and 
blessedness.  While  Ceasar  and  Bonaparte  shall  search 
in  vain  for  their  laurels,  such  persons  as  Hannah  More, 
Robert  Raikes*  and  Joseph  Emerson,  will  wear  their 
crowns  of  unfading  glory.  Dear  Brother,  yours 
in  the  joyous  hopes  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ, 

S.  Chapin. 

The  following  is  a  small  part  of  the  sketch  of  my 
brother's  character,  as  drawn  by  Rev.  Dr.  Hawes,  in  the 
funeral  sermon. 

Mr.  Emerson  was  a  plain  man,  but  the  leading  quali- 
ties of  his  character  were  of  the  most  substantial  and 
useful  kind.  He  had  a  clear,  vigorous,  active  mind  ; 
highly  cultivated  by  assiduous  study,  and  richly  furnish- 
ed with  a  fund  of  useful  knowledge  on  a  great  variety  of 
subjects.  He  was  a  great  lover  of  truth,  fond  of  inves- 
tigation, and  took  great  pleasure  in  conversing  on  sub- 
jects which  called  forth  thought,  suggested  useful  trains 
of  reflection,  and  promised  to  lead  to  useful  results. 
He  had  an  ardor  of  mind  which  seemed  never  to  decline 
and  which  impelled  him  to  engage  with  great  earnest- 
ness and  interest  in  whatever  he  attempted  to  accom- 
plish. He  was  never  idle, — always  busy — aiming  con- 
tinually at  improvement  and  utility.  As  a  teacher,  he 
was  devoted  with  great  and  untiring  ardor  to  his  employ- 
ment. Kind  and  affectionate  in  his  disposition,  and 
manifestly  intent  upon  doing  good  to  all  with  whom  he 
had  intercourse,  he  rarely  failed  to  secure  and  retain  the 
affection  and  respect  of  his  pupils  and  to  rouse  their 
minds  to  a  diligent  improvement  of  their  time  and 
talents.  He  was  original  and  novel  in  his  method  of 
teaching  ;  possessing  in  a  high  degree  the  happy  talent 
of  adapting  his  instructions  to  the  capacities  of  his 
pupils ;  peculiarly  familiar  and  practical.  Especially 
should  it  be  said  that  he  was  a  christian,  religious  teach- 
er. He  regarded  his  pupils  as  immortal  and  accountable 
beings ;  and  his  great  aim  was  to  educate  them  for  God 
and  eternity.  The  results  were  eminently  happy. 
While  few  teachers  have  been  more  successful  in  elicit- 
ing the  talents  and  improving  the  minds  of  their  pupils, 


TRAITS    AS    A    TEACHER.  417 

be  was  repeatedly  blessed  by  revivals  of  religion  in  his 
Seminary  ;  and  many  will  look  back  from  the  distant 
ages  of  eternity  to  the  instructions  which  he  imparted  to 
them  from  the  bible,  as  the  means  which  God  blessed  to 
the  salvation  of  their  souls. 

No  trait  in  the  character  of  Mr.  Emerson  was  more 
striking  than  open  hearted  honesty.  He  had  more  of 
the  character  commended  by  our  Savior  in  Nathaniel, 
than  any  person  I  ever  knew.  He  was  an  Israelite  in- 
deed in  whom  there  was  no  guile.  His  life,  his  preach- 
ing, his  prayers,  his  conversation,  were  simplicity  and 
sincerity.  He  knew  not  how  to  dissemble,  nor  to  wear 
a  mask.  He  was  what  he  appeared  to  be  ;  his  face,  his 
words,  his  whole  conduct  and  conversation  laid  bare  his 
heart ;  and  such  was  his  unbending  integrity  and  up- 
rightness that  all  who  had  but  the  slightest  acquaintance 
with  him,  felt  that  he  was  a  man  that  could  be  trusted. 

I  am  sorry  that  the  highly  respected  writer  of  the  fol- 
lowing, has  not  allowed  me  to  prefix  her  name. 

In  describing  the  characteristics  of  your  brother  as  a 
teacher,  I  remark,  that  one  of  his  most  prominent  traits, 
was  the  deep  interest  he  took  in  the  work ;  and  the  al- 
most enthusiastic  ardor,  with  which  he  prosecuted  the 
business  of  instruction.  When  he  assembled  the  young 
around  him,  for  the  communication  of  knowledge,  he 
appeared  to  regard  the  bearing  which  his  instructions 
might  have  on  all  their  future  course,  through  endless 
ages ;  and  to  feel,  that  he  should  probably  leave  impres- 
sions upon  their  minds,  which  death  itself  could  not 
efface.  Acting  under  the  impressions  of  such  feelings,  no 
recitation  was  allowed  to  pass  without  its  religious  ap- 
plication. 

If  the  history  of  the  rise  and  fall  of  nations,  was  the 
theme,  and  we  were  deeply  interested  in  searching  out 
the  many  causes  which  led  to  the  establishment  or  des- 
truction of  empires  and  kingdoms,  we  were  led  from  ap- 
parent agencies,  to  contemplate  with  an  eye  of  faith  an 
unseen  hand  directing  the  machinery  of  the  universe, 
and  accomplishing  God's  will  'in  the  armies  of  heaven 
and  among  the  inhabitants  of  earth ;  exalting  the  de- 
based, and  bringing  the  haughtiness  of  the  proud  low, 


418  TRAITS    AS    A    TEACHER. 

because  they  believed  not  in  God  and  trusted  not  in  his 
salvation.' 

If  the  history  of  the  church  was  the  chosen  subject 
and  her  trials  and  persecutions  were  matter  of  astonish- 
ment and  wonder,  difficult  to  be  understood  by  minds 
which  discerned  not  the  necessity  of  the  purifying  ordeal 
prepared  by  God  for  his  chosen,  we  were  assured,  if 
God  so  loved  the  world  as  to  give  his  only  and  beloved 
Son  a  ransom  for  it,  not  a  sorrow  too  much  for  their 
eternal  felicity,  would  be  permitted  to  trouble  their 
peace,  not  one  unnecessary  grief  disturb  their  breasts. 

If  chemistry  and  natural  philosophy  were  the  engross- 
ing topics,  we  were  led  "  from  nature  up  to  nature's 
God,"  and  taught  to  adore  that  goodness  which  was 
controlling  the  complicated  operations  of  the  world  and 
keeping  in  subjection  the  elements  of  destruction,  con- 
tained within  its  bosom  ;  directing  their  operations  with 
reference  to  the  comfort  and  security  of  man. 

Were  the  starry  heavens  and  wonders  of  astronomy 
spread  out  to  our  admiring  gaze,  we  were  told,  that 
"  the  heavens  were  the  work  of  his  fingers,"  and  that  the 
power  and  goodness  of  that  God,  which  caused  the 
morning  stars  to  sing  together  at  creation,  forgot  not,  in 
the  glories  which  surrounded  him,  the  humblest  work 
of  his  hands. 

Not  one  of  all  his  numerous  pupils,  but  felt  that  their 
beloved  teacher  was  acting  and  teaching  for  eternity. 

The  bible,  with  him,  was  the  only  standard  of  moral 
action  ;  and  every  case  of  right  and  wrong,  was  judged 
by  that  unerring  rule.  The  sacred  volume  was  present- 
ed to  us  with  strong  attractions ;  and  we  were  directed 
in  the  study  of  its  pages,  by  one  who  for  years,  had 
made  it  the  "  man  of  his  counsel."  Every  sentence 
contained  matter  of  interest,  and  events  and  characters 
with  which  we  thought  ourselves  familiar,  appeared 
clothed  with  the  novelty  and  interest  of  relations  listened 
to  for  the  first  time. 

Utility  was  the  leading  object  in  every  branch  of 
study ;  and  each  received  a  place  of  importance  in  the 
arrangement  of  his  course,  in  proportion  to  its  practical 
influence.  A  portion  of  every  day  was  allotted  to  a 
biblical  exercise  ;  and  many  can  testify  to  its  happy  in- 
fluence in  interesting  them  in  the  word  of  God,  and  fixing 


TRAITS    AS    A    TEACHER.  419 

their  determination  to  become  better  acquainted  with  its 
saving  truths.  As  might  be  expected,  such  instructions 
were  signally  blessed  of  God,  and  many  delight  to  ac- 
knowledge their  revered  and  beloved  instructer  as  the 
instrument,  in  God's  hand,  of  turning  their  feet  into  the 
way  of  life  and  peace.  He  regarded  his  school  as  one 
great  family,  of  which,  for  the  time,  he  was  constituted 
head ;  and  with  parental  anxiety,  he  labored  for  their 
temporal  and  eternal  interests. 

His  study  was  the  place  where,  with  child-like  confi- 
dence, his  pupils  repaired  for  instruction  and  advice,  in 
hours  of  exemption  from  all  other  tasks.  Here  the 
awakened  sinner  was  pointed  to  the  "  Lamb  of  God, 
who  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world ;"  and  there 
many,  who  were  going  forth  from  the  teacher  and  com- 
panions they  loved,  to  mingle  in  the  busy  scenes  of  ac- 
tive life,  sought  his  counsel  in  the  direction  of  their  future 
course,  and  his  prayers  for  a  blessing  on  their  future 
labors.  Many  who  were  privileged  with  instructions  in 
his  family,  will  remember  with  what  untiring  zeal  he 
labored  for  their  improvement. 

Systematic  in  all  his  arrangements,  practically  wise 
in  the  disposal  of  leisure  hours,  patient  and  unwearied 
in  the  prosecution  of  any  desirable  object,  he  failed  not 
to  enforce,  by  example,  what  he  inculcated  by  precept. 

The  government  of  his  school,  was  administered  with 
affection  and  mildness,  but  yet  with  decision.  Possess- 
ing the  love  and  confidence  of  his  pupils,  to  an  uncom- 
mon degree,  those  whose  delinquencies  subjected  them 
to  his  reproof,  were  conscious  that  a  benevolent  regard 
to  their  interest,  urged  him  to  the  performance  of  a  most 
unwelcome  duty ;  and  they  received  his  rebukes,  as  thev 
were  given,  with  a  spirit  of  kindness,  and  were  more 
pained  by  the  grief  they  occasioned  their  teacher,  than 
by  the  infliction  of  any  penalty  their  fault  might  have 
incurred. 

The  writer  of  this,  was  a  member  of  his  Seminary  in 
the  year — ;  and  with  many  then  associated  with  her, 
will  long  remember,  and  ever  delight  to  dwell  on  the 
instructions  she  there  received.  The  many,  who  in 
different  periods  have  been  connected  with  his  institu- 
tion, and  received  instruction  from  his  lips,  uniformly 
testify  to  the  unwearied  devotion  of  himself  to  his  duties 


4'20  FROM    MISS    LYON. 

and  the  almost  unbounded  influence  which  his  opinions 
exerted  over  minds  which  had  once  felt  their  power — 
an  influence  which  his  consistency  of  character,  his  con- 
formity in  life  to  the  principles  he  professed,  alone  could 
procure.  Those  who  were  preparing  to  communicate 
instruction  to  others  were  objects  of  peculiar  interest, 
and  to  the  special  improvement  of  such,  he  devoted 
many  hours  which  his  feeble  health  required  for  re- 
pose. Some,  thus  furnished  for  usefulness,  have  de- 
voted themselves  to  the  business  of  instruction  ;  and 
acting"  on  the  same  benevolent  and  christian  principle, 
are  striving  to  diffuse  and  perpetuate  an  influence,  the 
value  of  which  will  be  known  only  in  eternity. 

FROM    MISS    LYON. 

On  his  Estimate  and  Treatment  of  Females. 

Ipsicich,  Jlpril  12,  1834. 

Rev.  and  Dear  Sir, — In  compliance  with  your  re- 
quest, I  will  endeavor  to  note  a  few  things  on  one  subject, 
in  respect  to  your  departed  brother.  I  shall  include 
sentiments  which  I  have  heard  him  express,  and  impres- 
sions which  I  have  received  either  when  I  was  a  member 
of  his  school,  some  twelve  or  fifteen  years  ago,  or  in 
my  interviews  with  him  since  that  period. 

In  his  views  of  the  female  character,  and  in  his  treatment 
of  females,  there  was  so  rare  a  combination  of  excel- 
lence, that  I  have  been  led  to  inquire,  whether  this  did 
not  constitute  an  important  part  of  his  powerful  influ- 
ence over  the  minds,  the  hearts,  the  conduct,  and  the 
future  lives  of  his  pupils.  His  salutary  influence  seem- 
ed eminently  like  that  influence,  which  is  received  from 
a  careful  study  of  those  parts  of  the  bible,  from  which 
so  much  important  and  practical  instruction,  on  the  pe- 
culiar station  and  duties  of  females,  can  be  derived. 

His  practical  views  on  this  subject  might  be  divided 
into  two  classes.  These  t^t  some  minds  have  appeared 
opposite  and  incompatible;  but  to  his,  they  appeared 
beautifully  to  harmonize,  each  supporting  each,  like  faith 
and  works. 

On  the  one  hand,  his  regard  for  females  was  unusually 
high.      This  was  true  in   relation   to  their  intellectual 


FROM    MISS    I. VON.  421 

powers,  as  was  evident  from  his  general  manner  of  treat- 
ing his  pupils,  and  his  other  female  friends.  If  a  lady 
advanced  an  opinion,  to  which  he  could  not  assent,  he 
did  not  hesitate  to  object,  because  it  was  the  opinion  of  a 
lady ;  for  he  appeared  to  believe,  that  she  had  a  mind 
capable  of  weighing  an  argument,  and  of  seeing  an  ob- 
jection. He  would  address  her  as  if  he  expected,  that 
she  would  modestly,  but  independently,  adhere  to  that 
which  she  believed  to  be  the  truth,  till  convinced  by  ar- 
gument, and  that  she  would  gratefully  receive  the  cor- 
rection of  an  error. 

The  tendency  of  the  course  he  pursued,  was  to  in- 
spire ladies  with  a  modest  confidence,  not  only  in  their 
own  individual  powers,  but  also  in  the  native  abilities  of 
the  sex ;  and  to  give  them  those  just  views  of  their  real 
worth,  which  are  so  suited  to  lead  them  to  dislike  and 
avoid  all  mean  pretensions  to  knowledge,  genius,  and 
greatness ;  and  which  are  suited  to  do  away  the  assump- 
tion that  females  were  never  designed  to  be  literary  or 
scientific,  and  that  they  cannot  be  without  injury  to 
themselves  and  others.  He  would  regard  the  jewel  of 
learning,  "  in  a  woman  without  discretion,"  just  as  Sol- 
omon regards  that  of  beauty;  and  was  equally  desirous  to  re- 
press a  disgusting  vanity,  and  to  inspire  a  proper  confi- 
dence. Accordingly,  he  treated  ladies  and  gentlemen  es- 
sentially in  the  same  manner,  without  any  needless  dis- 
tinction. In  mixed  company,  I  never  knew  him  con- 
verse in  a  profitable  and  interesting  manner,  and  on 
some  practical  subject,  with  a  circle  of  gentlemen,  on 
one  hand;  and  when  turning  his  attention  to  a  circle 
of  ladies,  on  the  other,  descend  to  needless  common 
place  inquiries,  and  trifling  remarks.  In  his  general 
intercourse  with  his  christian  friends,  he  seemed  to 
regard  neither  male  nor  female,  but  all  as  one  in 
Christ  Jesus.  In  conversation  with  him,  ladies  gen- 
erally had  a  feeling  of  being  regarded  like  equals  as 
well  as  friends.  There  was  no  needless  gallantry — no 
apparent  consciousness  of  stooping — or  of  condescension. 
His  sincere  and  unfeigned  regard  for  the  sex,  was  told 
far  less  by  words  than  by  his  cordial,  familiar,  and  ur- 
affected  manner.  It  has  been  said  by  one,  whom  all 
consent  to  place  among  the  first  of  literary  ladies,  and 
who,  after  a  long  life  of  elevated  usefulness,  has  just 
36 


422  FROM    MISS    LYON. 

been  called  away  to  reap  her  everlasting  reward,  that 
ladies  may  know  in  what  estimation  they  are  held  by 
gentlemen,  by  the  conversation  addressed  to  them.  If 
this  is  true  of  individual  ladies,  is  it  not  also  true,  that 
the  whole  sex  may  know  in  what  estimation  they  are 
held,  by  the  conversation  addressed  to  them.  If  the 
views  of  him,  whom  so  many  delight  to  remember,  were 
more  universally  adopted,  and  his  example  followed  by 
educated  gentlemen,  the  younger  as  well  as  the  elder, 
would  it  not  be  suited  to  lead  literary  and  scientific 
ladies,  to  become  more  like  this  worthy  and  highly  val- 
ued woman,  whose  sentiment  has  just  been  quoted. 
And  is  it  too  much  to  hope,  that  our  country  might  now 
and  then  raise  up  a  Hannah  More,  untarnished  orna- 
ments to  our  sex,  who  should  be  no  less  distinguished 
among  us,  for  their  freedom  from  a  disgusting  egotism, 
than  for  their  sound  and  extensive  learning. — Thus 
much  for  one  class  of  his  views. 

On  the  other  hand,  his  views  of  the  subordinate  station 
of  the  female  sex,  were  no  less  clear  ;  and  were  just  as 
frankly  avowed.  In  this,  the  bible  was  his  guide.  I  be- 
lieve his  opinion  was,  that  the  mind  of  the  female  in  its 
native  characteristics,  differs  somewhat  from  that  of  the 
male — that  in  some  things,  which  are  not  so  necessary 
to  enable  her  to  fulfil  her  varied  and  extensive  duties, 
her  strength  of  intellect  is  not  equal  to  that  of  the  other 
sex  ;  but  that  in  other  things,  no  less  noble,  and  equally 
important  for  the  good  of  the  world,  she  even  excels. 

The  station  of  females,  he  viewed,  as  designed  by 
Providence  to  be  subordinate  and  dependent,  to  a  de- 
gree far  exceeding  the  difference  in  their  native  talents. 
This  difference  in  their  station,  no  less  than  the  differ- 
ence in  their  intellectual  powers,  he  regarded  as  dictated 
by  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness — not  for  the  elevation 
of  the  one,  or  the  depression  of  the  other,  but  for  the 
promotion  of  the  greatest  good  of  the  whole.  His  mode 
of  treating  these  topics,  was  suited  to  lead  ladies  to  fill 
the  station  assigned  them  by  Providence,  and  to  perform 
their  appropriate  and  varied  duties,  with  dignity  and 
grace — with  modesty  and  ingenuousness,  with  cheerful- 
ness and  contentment. 

His  views  of  the  obedience  due  from  the  wife  to  the 
husband,  were  as  clear  as  those  we  find  in  the  bible. 
While  he  considered  it  the  universal  duty  of  the  wifr  to 


FROM    MISS    LYON.  423 

obey,  restricted  only  by  the  laws  of  God,  he  did  not  con- 
sider it  the  duty  of  the  husband,  in  any  ordinary  case,  to 
command.  Still  the  marks  of  infinite  wisdom  may  be 
discovered,  in  that  comparative  safety  which  is  secured 
to  family  peace  and  order,  by  vesting,  for  cases  of  great 
emergency  and  unnatural  contention,  the  supreme  au- 
thority in  one  rather  than  in  two.  If  in  families,  so 
wonderfully  fitted  in  their  very  organization  to  be  the 
abode  of  happiness  and  love,  there  may  be  here  and 
there  found  an  instance  of  strange  alienation  and  dis- 
cord, how  many  more  such  scenes  should  we  witness,  if 
the  bible  had  clothed  each  part  of  the  united  head,  with 
equal  authority  to  rule.  Thus  all  glorying  is  void,  and 
all  servile  dependence  excluded,  while  each  unites  with 
each,  in  conforming,  and  in  being  conformed  to  the  de- 
lightful harmony  and  beautiful  unity  of  the  divine  gov- 
ernment. The  obedience,  which  he  would  inculcate, 
would  be  so  genuine  and  unaffected,  as  scarcely  if  ever 
to  be  recognized  as  such,  by  either  party,  the  whole  being 
clothed  in  the  beautiful  robe  of  mutual  respect  and  es- 
teem. 

If  according  to  his  opinion,  females  are  called  to  sus- 
tain a  greater  variety  of  cares,  if  they  have  occasion,  in 
their  ordinary  pursuits,  to  excel  in  a  greater  number  of 
objects ;  if  they  need  to  understand,  not  only  one  pro- 
fession, but  as  it  were  several  professions ;  and  if  in 
kindness,  they  have  been  fitted  for  those  cares  by  the 
native  flexibility  of  their  souls,  made  more  flexible  by 
their  subordinate  and  dependent  condition,  would  they 
not  become  more  fitted,  under  his  cultivating  hand  ? 
Any  lady,  and  the  cases  are  not  rare,  who  has  occasion 
to  excel  in  guiding  her  numerous  household — in  being 
the  active  head  of  all  her  various  departments  of  domes- 
tic labor,  irt  presiding  in  the  parlor,  and  at  the  table, 
without  display  or  diffidence — in  rendering  her  house 
the  delightful  abode  of  hospitality,  as  well  as  of  domes- 
tic happiness — in  becoming  a  skilful  teacher  for  her  own 
children,  and  for  others,  who  may  be  gathered  into  the 
sabbath  school,  or  bible  class — and  in  being  the  main 
spring  of  many  a  benevolent  association — and  besides 
all,  who  will  find  it  desirable  to  be  intelligent  on  most 
subjects  of  practical  interest,  and  it  may  be  too,  to  be 
literary  without  vanity,  and  scientific  without  ostenta- 


424 


MUTUAL    ATTACHMENT 


tion — any  lady,  who  has  occasion  for  all  this,  will  have 
great  reason  for  gratitude,  that  she  ever  enjoyed  the 
privilege  of  sitting  under  the  instruction  of  my  dearly 
beloved,  and  highly  revered  teacher. 

While  I  fully  believe,  that  this  subject  should  not  be 
approached  at  all  in  conversation  or  in  writing,  without 
an  important  reason,  I  also  as  fully  believe,  that  it  is  a 
subject,  on  which  our  youth  should  be  fully  and  plainly 
instructed.  Thus  believing,  I  most  cheerfully  submit 
this  short  and  imperfect  sketch  to  your  disposal.  I  can 
only  say,  that  I  would  rather  this  communication  should 
be  rendered  useless,  by  a  more  full  and  lucid  delineation, 
drawn  from  other  sources.  But  should  you  deem  any 
part  of  it,  suited  to  aid  some,  among  the  many  hundreds 
of  mothers  who  are  anticipating  so  much  satisfaction  as 
well  as  profit  from  the  fruits  of  your  present  work,  and 
who  must  sustain  the  principal  responsibility  of  instruct- 
ing their  daughters  on  many  important  topics,  I  should 
be  gratified  to  have  it  used  for  such  an  end. 
Yours  respectfully, 

Mary  Lyon. 

The  following  is  from  a  letter  addressed  to  Miss  Grant. 
Another  extract  from  the  same  discriminating  pen,  will 
be  found  in  Miss  G.'s  communication. 

My  dear  Friend, — I  am  happy  to  write  to  you  on 
the  subject  you  have  suggested.  The  recollection  of  the 
past  is  usually  interesting,  and  peculiarly  so,  when  con- 
nected with  the  contemplation  of  a  character  of  so  much 
intellectual  worth  and  moral  excellence  as  was  Mr. 
Emerson's.  Though  my  connexion  with  his  school  was 
comparatively  short,  and  my  acquaintance  with  his 
character  limited,  yet  I  trust  the  savor  of  his  instruc- 
tions will  long  remain,  and  extensively  influence  my 
opinions  and  conduct. 

His  school  in consisted  of  about  eighty  pupils  of 

different  ages  and  characters,  from  the  intellectual  and 
sedate  young  lady  of  twenty-live,  to  the  gay  and  thought- 
less miss  of  ten  or  twelve.  From  the  difference  in  our 
characters,  and  the  dissimilarity  in  our  aims  and  mo- 
tives, little  union  of  feeling  might  have  been  anticipated  ; 
but  on  one  subject,  we  all  agreed.     This  was,  respectful 


AMONG    HIS    PUPILS.  425 

affection  for  our  teacher.  Well  do  I  remember  the  in- 
terest his  approach  excited  in  every  heart,  and  the  de- 
light that  Mould  beam  from  the  downcast  eye  and  kindle 
the  blushing  cheek  at  any  special  instance  of  his  notice. 
The  epithet  of  father,  which  was  often  applied  to  him 
by  the  pupils,  in  familiar  intercourse  with  each  other, 
well  expressed  our  sentiments  towards  him.  In  conse- 
quence of  our  regard  to  him,  our  love  for  our  companions 
increased.  Viewing  him  as  a  common  parent,  we  learn- 
ed to  consider  each  other  as  sisters.  And  this  feeling 
did  not  cease  with  our  connexion  with  the  school. 

The  mutual  attachment  of  Mr.  Emerson's  pupils  after 
leaving  the  Seminary,  has  become  almost  proverbial. 
nor  is  this  confined  to  those  individuals,  who  were  mem- 
bers of  his  school  at  the  same  time.  I  believe  it  is  sel- 
dom that  two  young  ladies  meet  who  have  enjoyed  the 
benefit  of  his  instructions,  who,  if  aware  of  the  fact,  do 
not  immediately  feel  interested  in  each  other.* 

Mr.  Emerson's  method  of  teaching,  is  well  known. 
His  instructions  were  rich  in  moral  and  intellectual 
treasures.  His  remarks  were  uttered  with  perfect  sim- 
plicity, but  with  an  animation  that  commanded  interest 
and  secured  attention.  While  they  afforded  a  mental 
feast  to  the  more  intelligent  of  his  pupils,  they  were  so 
plain  as  to  be  profitable  to  the  most  ignorant. 

You  well  know,  that  I  regard  my  residence  in  S.  as 
forming  an  important  era  in  my  intellectual  existence. 
I  there  acquired  new  ideas  of  what  constituted  excel- 
lence of  character.  Elsewhere  I  had  read  and  studied 
for  my  own  gratification.  I  had  sought  knowledge  for 
the  delight  1  derived  from  its  acquisition.  Here  I  was 
taught  that  knowledge  was  desirable  principally  as  a 
moans  of  usefulness  to  others,  and  that  literary  selfish- 
ness was  as  sinful  as  any  other  selfishness. 

*  This  community  of  feeling  has  often  attracted  my  notice  ;  nor  have  I 
ever  seen  it  so  strong  between  the  pupils  of  any  other  school,  or  even  of 
any  college.  I  am  at  a  loss  to  account  fully  for  its  intensity,  though  it 
would  he  easy  to  specify  some  additional  causes  to  the  one  alluded  to  bv 
the  author  of  this  letter.  '  They  were  all  led  to  drink  into  one  and  the  same 
spirit  f  and  to  feel  that  they  had  a  great  work  before  them  in  life,  and  that 
they  were  to  aid  each  other  in  this  work  of  light  and  beneficence  ;  and  sel- 
fishness, and  petty  aims,  and  vanity,  were  to  be  laid  aside.  This  laid  the 
foundation  for  a  new  and  kindred  feeling  of  an  exalted  and  permanent 
character. 

30* 


4*26  FROM    MISS    GRANT. 

FROM    MISS    GRANT. 

Ipsicich,  April,  1834. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir, — Your  note  requesting  me  to 
communicate  something  respecting  your  brother,  that 
might  aid  you  in  preparing  his  Memoir,  was  duly  re- 
ceived. Having  been  his  pupil  six  months,  and  resided 
in  his  family  more  than  two  years,  either  as  pupil  or 
assistant  teacher,  and  having  kept  up  an  acquaintance 
with  him  as  with  an  elder  brother,  from  the  spring  of 
1820  till  his  death,  I  have  had  an  opportunity  of  know- 
ing his  character  more  thoroughly  than  perhaps  almost 
any  other  person,  except  his  own  family  connexions. 
My  full  conviction,  that  many  faithful  laborers  in  the 
cause  of  education,  would  become  much  more  useful 
through  an  acquaintance  with  some  of  his  distinguishing 
traits,  leads  me  to  communicate  to  you  the  following  ob- 
servations, which  I  submit  to  your  disposal. 

His  uncommon  skill  in  exciting  those  around  him  to 
think,  was  one  of  his  peculiar  excellencies  as  an  educa- 
tor. This  was  not  so  much  owing  to  the  force  of  his 
mental  action,  as  to  the  quickness  and  clearness  of  his 
perceptions,  and  to  his  peculiar  delight  in  witnessing  the 
mental  operations  of  others,  and  in  eliciting  truth  by  the 
mutual  action  and  reaction  of  his  own  and  other  minds. 
He  was  equally  careful  to  theorize  on  his  practice,  and 
to  practice  his  theories ;  and  the  ivhy  and  wherefore,  with 
which  he  often  interrogated  his  pupils,  could  not  fail  of 
arresting  their  attention.  The  boundary  of  his  own 
knowledge,  he  was  able  most  clearly  to  define,  and  the 
causes  of  uncertainty  as  to  what  lay  beyond  that  limit, 
he  always  understood.  Regarding  his  own  attainments 
as  the  result  of  patient,  persevering  effort,  he  felt  that 
high  mental  cultivation,  and  abilities  for  extensive  use- 
fulness, might  be  acquired  by  those  of  only  respectable 
talents,  if  they  were  willing  to  pay  the  -price.  He  believ- 
ed that  a  mind  well  disciplined,  and  stored  with  useful 
and  systematic  knowledge,  and  able  to  use  it  when 
called  for,  together  with  discretion  and  a  singleness  of 
purpose  to  do  right,  promised  more  good  to  the  human 
race,  than  first-rate  talents,  unaccompanied  by  such 
moral  power.  Having  accomplished  so  much  in  self- 
education,  he  knew  how  to  point  out  to  others  his  well- 


FROM    MISS    GRANT.  427 

trodden  path.  He  would  indicate  what  the  course  and 
progress  of  his  own  mind  had  been,  by  proposing  such 
questions  as  at  once  seemed  capable  of  solution  ;  and 
yet  actually  required  much  thought  to  solve.  When  it 
was  necessary,  he  would  give  a  clue  to  the  solution  of  a 
difficulty  ;  but  ordinarily  the  mind  he  was  guiding,  must 
distinctly  see  and  weigh  the  arguments  on  opposite  sides, 
and  decide  for  itself,  before  it  could  discover  how  the 
case  stood  in  his  own.  In  discussion,  he  almost  uni- 
formly adopted  the  Socratic  method.  His  skill  in  stat- 
ing questions,  was  surely  of  no  ordinary  character,  as 
the  more  and  the  less  learned  would  unitedly  testify. 
His  patience  with  persons  unskilled  in  reasoning,  and 
his  uniform  kindness  and  cheerfulness  of  manner,  over- 
came the  timidity  of  almost  every  active  intellect.  Bar- 
renness of  mind  never  seemed  to  be  the  result  of  his 
physical  infirmities.  On  the  contrary,  when  his  bodily 
powers  were  the  most  prostrated,  he  seemed  to  approach 
nearer  and  nearer  to  our  ideal  of  a  pure  spirit ;  and 
whether  he  was  comparatively  weak  or  strong,  he  would 
furnish  by  the  present  actings  of  his  own  mind,  abun- 
dant materials  of  thought,  to  all  with  whom  he  conversed. 
It  was  his  uniform  practice,  to  refer  his  every  action  to 
the  principle  of  moral  right.  This  principle,  he  consid- 
ered much  more  extensive  in  its  application,  than  is  gen- 
erally conceded  by  professing  christians.  For  every 
thing  he  did,  he  was  able  to  state  a  reason  that  was  sat- 
isfactory, at  least  to  himself.  His  diet,*  exercise,  intel- 
lectual employments,  and  the  course  to  be  pursued  in  his 
school,  and  indeed  every  practical  question  was  brought 
to  the  same  test.  Whatever  he  decided,  all  things  con- 
sidered, it  was  best  he  should  do,  that  he  continued  to 
do,  till  he  saw  reason  for  altering  his  decision.  This 
was  strikingly  apparent  in  his  care  of  his  health.  In 
forming  his  plans  for  usefulness,  he  always  considered 
what  he  could  sustain  without  injury.  It  was  with  him 
an  established  principle,  that  it  was  his  duty  to  prolong 

*  To  a  friend  he  once  remarked  to  the  following  effect  Every  thing 
like  luxury  in  food  is  sinful.  When  making  calls  on  ladies  of  piety,  I  have 
sometimes  been  distressed,  to  hear  them  speak  of  living  for  the  glory  ol 
God,  when  spreading  a  very  sumptuous  table — just  as  if  the  fdoiy  of  God 
had  nothing  to  do  with  these  extravagances.  Indeed,  he  regarded  luxury 
as  a  double  sin,  a  waste  of  food,  and  a  waste  of  health. 


428  FROM    MISS    GRANT. 

his  usefulness  in  this  world,  as  many  years  as  possible. 
And  that  it  would  be  wrong  for  him,  either  by  neglect- 
ing attention  to  diet  and  exercise,  or  by  making  efforts 
on  any  occasion  beyond  his  strength,  to  injure,  even 
temporarily,  the  only  instrument  with  which  his  mind 
could  act  on  earth.  When  he  had  decided,  that  every 
time  he  stepped  out  of  the  door,  he  needed  his  overshoes, 
or  gaiters,  or  both,  he  never  went  without  them.  The 
hours  he  had  appropriated  to  exercise,  were  never  under 
any  circumstances,  for  a  single  day,  spent  in  physical 
inaction.*  He  not  only  uniformly  rejected  whatever 
food,  he  had  decided  to  be  injurious  to  him,  but  his 
cocoa  or  shells,  or  whatever  he  deemed  necessary  for 
his  food  or  drink,  was  always  taken,  whether  at  home 
or  abroad.  As  his  diet  for  several  years  consisted  gen- 
erally, either  of  bread  and  milk,  or  bread  and  butter, 
what  solid  food  he  wanted,  could  be  supplied  at  any 
table  ;  and  the  inconvenience  and  unpleasantness  of  car- 
rying his  shells  with  him,  and  having  them  prepared, 
wherever  he  took  his  morning  or  evening  repast,  he 
considered  as  nothing,  compared  with  the  loss  of  that 
precious  time,  which  he  had  consecrated  to  the  service 
of  God.f  From  that  fearful  lion,  "  What  will  people 
say  1"  which  leads  so  many  to  violate  conscience,  he  was 
so  guarded  by  the  shield  of  faith,  that  its  attacks  never 
caused  him  either  a  trembling  or  a  deviating  step. 
When  informed,  that  some  of  his  acquaintances  thought 
he  would  have  more  strength,  if  he  should  take  more 
nourishing  food,  or  that  they  considered  him  notional  in 
regard  to  his  diet,  he  would  say,  "  I  understand  my  own 
case  better  than  any  one  else  can" — "  I  am  not  account- 
able to  other  people's  consciences,  but  to  my  own," — 
"  I  am  not  to  be  swerved  from  the  performance  of  what 
I  believe  to  be  duty,  by  what  people  say," — "  I  am  under 
obligation  to  pursue  such  a  course,  as  will  enable  me  to 
accomplish  the  greatest  amount  of  good."     Often  also, 

*  This  sometimes  led  him  to  such  neglect  of  company  as  to  create  in  my 
own  breast,  painful  feelings.  Though  I  could  not  coincide  with  him  in  all 
his  conclusions,  yet  I  could  see  the  view  which  he  took  of  the  case,  and 
understood  I'.he  reasons  of  his  conduct. 

t  He  was  no  less  careful  as  to  the  quantity  of  his  food.  More  than  thirty 
years  ago  he  adopted  the  practice  of  eating  but  one  kind  at  a  meal ;  and 
this  as  he  then  said,  to  prevent  his  eating  too  much. — Ed. 


FROM    MISS    GRANT.  429 

when  journeying  for  his  health,  he  felt  constrained  to 
deny  himself  the  gratification  of  calling  on  his  friends, 
even  when  he  passed  very  near  them ;  hecause  the  ex- 
citement,  which  he  must  necessarily  experience  in  meet- 
ing them,  Mould  he  more  than  he  could  sustain,  and  at 
the  same  time  receive  benefit  from  his  journey.  Had 
he  taken  no  more  care  of  himself  than  even  conscien- 
tious invalids  generally  do,  he  would  have  been  lost  to 
the  world,  and  probably  laid  in  his  grave,  at  least  ten 
years  sooner.  How  much,  then,  do  mankind  owe  to  his 
peculiar  watchfulness  and  singular  fidelity  in  relation  to 
every  thing  that  could  affect  his  physical  system.* 

It  was  not  enough  in  his  view,  for  a  rational  being  to 
be  positively  useful.  He  held  it  to  be  both  his  duty,  and 
his  privilege,  to  do  good  to  the  extent  of  his  capacity. 
To  fall  short  of  this,  he  considered  morally  wrong. 
Under  circumstances  suited  to  produce  painful  emotion, 
instead  of  allowing  the  propensities  of  human  nature  to 
operate  and  consume  his  time,  he  trained  himself  to 
consider  what  it  was  duty  to  do  in  the  case  ;  to  discharge 
that  faithfully ;  and  then  to  apply  himself,  with  undivided 
attention,  to  useful  occupation. 

The  requirement,  Love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself,  he  felt 
to  be  full  of  meaning.  The  principle  of  obedience  to 
this  precept,  led  him  to  peculiar  faithfulness  in  adminis- 
tering reproof  This  Mas  generally  accomplished  by  di- 
recting the  attention  of  the  person,  whose  fault  he  wished 

*  To  a  superficial  eye,  it  might  seem  as  if  my  brother  was  very  fond  of 
life.  But  in  truth,  I  have  scarcely  known  the  man  that  cared  so  lit- 
tle for  life  merely /or  the  sake  of  living;  while  I  have  never  found  one 
with  whom  the  preservation  of  life,  was  so  much  a  matter  of  conscience. 
The  following,  from  the  memoranda  of  his  daughter,  will  further  illustrate 
this  position.  To  those  who  had  not  known  and  could  not  realize  the 
great  and  long  continued  infirmities  of  my  father,  the  various  methods  he 
had  adopted  and  the  efforts  he  had  made  for  the  recovery  of  his  health, 
his  pertinacious  adherence  to  his  peculiar  habits,  might  appear  like  obsti- 
nacy. But  it  arose  from  a  solemn  conviction  of  duty  and  a  persuasion  that 
having  so  long  studied  his  own  constitution,  he  was*  better  acquainted  with 
it,  than  any  one  else.  Hence  his  extreme  reluctance,  in  his  last  sickness,  to 
try  experiments  which  the  experience  of  twenty  years,  had  led  him  to  be- 
lieve might  be  injurious.  A  week  or  two  beforehis  death,  when  I  inquir- 
ed of  him,  if  he  had  not  better  take  a  certain  medicine,  he  said,  in  a  very  so- 
lemn manner, '"  my  conscience  is  most  deeply  exercised  upon  that  subject. 
I  am  going  to  the  judgment  and  must  judge  for  myself."  And  it  was 
only  after  prayerful  deliberation  and  requesting  the  prayers  of  others  that 
he  consented  to  throw  himself  upon  the  care  of  his  physicians,  and  leave 
the  event  with  God. 


430  FROM    MISS    GRANT. 

to  correct,  to  the  exercise  of  an  opposite  virtue.  Where 
he  observed,  for  instance,  apparent  impatience  of  con- 
tradiction, he  would  take  a  favorable  opportunity  to  re- 
mark, "  I  think  your  manner  in  conversation  might  per- 
haps be  improved  by  cultivating  a  spirit  of  meekness." 
This  would  be  said  in  so  easy  and  unstudied  a  manner, 
with  so  much  kindness  and  benevolent  interest,  as  to 
make  it  impossible  for  a  teachable  disposition,  to  resist 
its  influence.  Instead  of  leading  his  friends  to  make 
efforts  to  correct  the  outward  appearance,  even  where  the 
fault  seemed  to  be  only  in  manner,  he  always  turned 
their  attention  inward,  and  led  them  to  seek  to  purify 
the  source.  He  gratefully  received  hints  concerning 
himself,  from  his  intimate  friends,  not  excepting  his  infe- 
riors ;  and  in  all  his  faithfulness  of  reproof  to  others,  the 
golden  rule  was  ever  his  rule  of  action.  Even  very 
trying  truths  respecting  peculiar  traits  of  character  or 
personal  habits,  he  would  communicate  in  such  a  way, 
that  though  all  was  understood  and  felt,  yet  the  individ- 
ual would  hardly  be  able  to  tell  at  what  particular  time 
in  the  course  of  the  conversation,  the  desired  impression 
was  received.  From  the  example  of  Paul  in  his  epistles, 
and  of  our  Savior  in  his  letters  to  the  seven  churches  of 
Asia,  he  learned  to  mingle  more  or  less  of  commenda- 
tion with  his  reproofs.  This  was  of  a  kind  suited  to  lead 
his  friends  justly  to  appreciate  excellence,  and  to  dis- 
criminate between  good  and  evil,  to  desire  the  one  and 
avoid  the  other,  and  by  no  means  to  produce  self-com- 
placency. In  this  way,  he  greatly  aided  those  under 
his  influence,  in  gaining  a  just  estimate  of  themselves, 
and  continually  stimulated  them  to  aim  at  high  attain- 
ments. 

I  would  further  remark  on  his  signal  success,  in  lead- 
ing every  conscientious  pupil  to  feci  her  individual  respon- 
sibility to  serve  her  generation  according  to  the  will  of  God. 
This  seemed  to  be  effected  by  leading  the  pupil  to 
see  things  more  nearly  as  they  are, — to  gain  clearer 
ideas  of  the  principles  of  the  human  mind,  a  more  just 
sense  of  the  end  for  which  it  was  created,  a  more  ration- 
al and  practical  understanding  of  the  moral  law,  and  a 
perception  of  its  adaptation  to  the  condition  and  charac- 
ter of  man — and  by  an  exemplification,  in  his  own 
spirit  and  conduct,  of  that  moral  excellence  which  he 


FROM    MISS    GRANT.  431 

inculcated.  The  way  being  thus  prepared,  the  exhortation 
from  him,  "  Never  spend  six  months  of  your  life  in  any 
way,  without  first  considering  whether  you  can  benefit 
the  world  as  much  by  the  plan  proposed,  as  by  any 
other,"  has  been  applied  with  such  force,  as  to  produce 
an  effect  for  years.  His  self-possession  under  circum- 
stances fitted  to  produce  irritation,  convinced  those 
around  him,  that  he  could  endure  as  well  as  act.  They 
felt  that  he  would  do  exactly  what  he  thought  was  right, 
and  this  caused  his  instructions  to  come  home  with  ten- 
fold power.  This  happy  influence  was  not  felt  merely 
while  his  pupils  were  members  of  his  seminary,  but  the 
principles  then  adopted  or  developed,  remained  abiding 
and  operative  wherever  their  lot  was  cast. 

The  following  extract  of  a  letter  from  an  intelligent 
mother,  who  was  once  a  member  of  his  seminary,  is  a 
happy  specimen  of  the  sentiments  and  experience  of 
many  of  his  pupils,  whose  active,  unostentatious  useful- 
ness is  the  best  comment  on  the  moral  tendency  of  his 
instructions  and  example.  "  Among  other  ways  of  doing 
good,  Mr.  Emerson  did  not  fail  often  to  refer  to  one 
peculiarly  adapted  to  the  situation  and  habits  of  females 
— that  of  influencing  and  educating  children.  His  re- 
marks on  this  subject,  were  frequent ;  his  directions  for 
being  useful  to  our  little  brothers  and  sisters,  minute; 
and  his  illustrations,  practical.  As  I  had  neither  a  little 
brother  nor  sister  to  labor  for,  I  sometimes  used  to  think 
him  unnecessarily  prolix  on  this  subject ;  but  since  I 
have  been  a  mother,  I  have  realized  the  value  of  these 
instructions.  While  gazing  on  the  infant  in  my  arms, 
or  attending  to  the  prattler  at  my  side,  I  have  felt  reason 
to  thank  God  for  having  been  Mr.  E.'s  pupil.  To  him  I 
am  indebted  for  an  increased  sense  of  the  responsibility 
of  the  maternal  relation  ;  and  from  his  opinions  and 
sentiments,  have  I  derived  most  of  the  principles  which 
have  actuated  me  in  the  management  of  my  children. 
Very  often  docs  his  maxim,  'Never  teach  a  child  what 
you  will  afterwards  wish  him  to  forget,'  come  to  mv 
mind  with  restraining  power,  and  the  experience  of  sev- 
eral years  has  but  increased  mj  conviction  of  its  salutary 
influence.  1  think  I  may  say  as  an  almost  uniform  fact, 
that  my  success  with  my  children,  has  been  proportioned 
to  the  fidelity  with  which  I  have  adhered  to  Mr.  E.'s  di- 
rections and  principles.     Those  books  which  have  been 


432  FROM    MISS    GRANT. 

most  useful  to  me,  and  most  profitable  to  my  children, 
have  seemed  but  exemplifications  of  what  fell  from 
his  lips,  years  ago." 

His  familiar  acquaintance  with  the  history  and  char' 
acter  of  bible  saints,  and  his  clear  conception  of  invisible 
realities j  had  no  small  effect  on  his  usefulness.  The 
original  talents,  the  natural  disposition  and  the  general 
attainments,  as  well  as  whatever  was  peculiar  in  the 
religious  character  of  the  patriarchs,  statesmen,  warriors, 
and  prophets,  delineated  in  holy  writ,  appeared  to  be  as 
clearly  understood  by  him,  as  were  those  of  his  own  asso- 
ciates. Such  particular  circumstances  or  traits,  as  that  of 
Abraham's  being  an  intelligent  traveller,  and  a  polished 
gentleman ;  and  Isaac,  a  quiet,  well-disposed,  domestic 
man,  with  only  ordinary  talents,  were  often  noticed  in  his 
conversation  and  instruction.  He  was  satisfied  that  heaven 
is  a  locality,  because  it  contains  the  bodies  of  Enoch,  Elijah 
and  Christ ;  and  he  would  speak  of  these  bodies,  and  of  the 
spirits  of  the  righteous  dead,  as  being  in  heaven,  just  as 
he  would  speak  of  a  friend's  being  in  a  neighboring 
State.  The  communion  of  glorified  saints  with  each 
other  and  with  Christ,  seemed  to  him  as  much  a  reality 
as  the  intercourse  of  the  members  of  his  own  family  ;  and 
his  views  in  respect  to  the  transforming  influence,  on 
the  redeemed,  of  seeing  Jesus  as  he  is,  gave  him  a  live- 
ly sense  of  the  importance  of  contemplating  the  same 
character,  in  order  to  promote  personal  sanctification  on 
earth.  It  was  his  custom  to  speak  of  intellectual  and 
holy  pursuits  in  heaven,  as  a  continuation  of  the  same 
on  earth,  and  of  going  thither,  as  a  change  of  state,  but 
not  of  character.  Such  expressions  frequently  falling 
from  his  lips,  as, "  I  never  expect  to  understand  this  fully 
before  I  get  to  heaven  ;  "  "  we  shall  know  more  about 
this  science  if  we  ever  reach  heaven  ;  "  "  probably  Abra- 
ham, with  all  his  faith,  had  low  views  of  this  subject  on 
earth,  compared  with  what  he  has  now,"  led  those  around 
him  to  feel,  that  heavenly  things  were  to  him  as  real 
as  earthly.  Even  the  skeptical  would  imperceptibly 
imbibe  the  same  view,  and  begin  to  feel  that  their  exist- 
ence after  death,  is  as  certain  as  their  existence  now. 
His  habit  of  viewing  and  exhibiting  the  subject  in  this 
calm  and  unimpassioned  manner,  till  the  judgment  was 
wholly  enlisted,  was,  in  its  effects  on  the  christian,  most 


FROM    DR.    TENNEY.  433 

Lasting  and  salutary,  and  the  means  of  bringing  many 
who  were  Impenitent,  to  the  exercise  of  saving  faith. 

The  death  of  this  good  man,  appeared  to  his  extensive 
circle  of  friends,  only  as  a  transition  from  his  place  of 
sojourning  here,  to  a  permanent  residence  on  high;  and 
his  arrival  there,  with  what  is  to  follow  it,  as  the  con- 
summation of  all  his  desires  in  regard  to  himself.  Al- 
most or  quite  every  individual  whom  I  have  heard  speak 
of  his  death,  instead  of  using  a  common  expression,  has 
remarked  something  to  this  effect;  "  Mr.  Emerson  has 
finally  none  home;  he  now  mingles  with  those  ancient 
saints  lie  so  much  admired  and  loved  on  earth."  If  the 
anticipation  of  associating  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Ja- 
cob, was  to  him  so  delightful,  what  must  the  reality  he  ?  " 
"No  other  person's  death  ever  seemed  to  me  so  much 
like  a  passage  from  one  country  to  another,  as  does  his." 
"  Instead  of  thinking  of  him  as  being  dead,  I  always 
think  of  him  as  being'  in  heaven." 

With  high  regard,  and  sincere  esteem,  yours, 

Z.  P.  Grant. 

FROM    DR.    TENNEY. 

IVdhersfield,  January  A,  1834. 

Rev.  and  Dear  Sir, — Since  you  requested  me  to 
express  my  views  respecting  your  lamented  brother, 
such  has  been  my  own  indisposition,  pointing  me  to  my 
own  exit  as  not  distant,  that  I  have  not  been  able, 
neither  am  I  now  able,  to  do  justice  to  the  deceased. 
But  such  was  my  acquaintance  with  him  and  sueh  my 
respect  for  his  character,  that  I  cannot  be  silent. 

Although  we  were  born  nearly  in  the  same  neighbor- 
hood, and  were  not  very  distant  in  age,  our  acquaintance 
did  not  become  intimate,  until  the  spring  of  his  third 
year  in  college.  Then  in  our  native  place,  our  minds 
were  almost  at  the  same  time  impressed  with  the  great 
truths  of  religion — a  circumstance  which  led  to  an  inti- 
macy of  friendship,  which  was  terminated  only  by  lug 
death.  His  religious  anxiety  was  marked  by  great  hon- 
esty in  his  inquiries  after  truth  and  duty,  and  by  a  most 
conscientious  and  entire  surrendery  of  himself  to  the 
gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  and  to  the  service  of  God. 

In  our  subsequent  interviews,  which  were  only  occa- 
37 


434  FROM    DR.    TENNEY. 

sional,  until  he  removed  to  this  place,  great  frankness, 
untiring  ardor  in  duty  and  the  character  of  an  Israelite 
indeed  in  whom  is  no  guile,  very  uniformly  appeared  in 
him.  The  character  he  developed  here,  was  in  perfect 
keeping  with  what  I  had  previously  known  and  expected 
of  him ;  except  as  my  renewed  acquaintance  became 
more  and  more  intimate,  I  saw  in  him  more  and  more 
to  love  and  respect. 

In  his  dispositions,  he  was  naturally  so  frank  and  hon- 
est, that  he  was  ready,  possibly  too  ready,  to  believe  all 
others  like  himself.  Duplicity  and  deceitfulness,  flatery 
and  flaterers,  he  could  not  endure.  Pacific,  compassion- 
ate and  kind  in  his  feelings,  he  never  once,  in  all  my  in- 
tercourse with  him,  appeared  in  the  least  out  of  temper. 
He  indeed  complained  of  nervous  weakness  and  irrita- 
bility ;  but  this  was  known  only  to  himself  and  not  to 
others.  So  common  is  it  for  those  long  employed  in 
teaching  the  young,  to  become  impatient  and  irritable, 
that  his  freedom  from  this,  as  testified  by  his  pupils  and 
acquaintance,  was  an  attainment  as  excellent  as  it  is 
rare.* 

Uninterruptedly  did  he,  in  every  way,  aim  at  improve- 
ment. This  was  a  leading  trait  in  his  character,  and 
was  fitted  to  make  him  original  and  interesting  as  an  in- 
structor of  youth  and  a  preacher  of  the  gospel.  He  had 
and  ever  manifested  a  hallowed,  profound  defference 
for  the  bible.  He  was  mighty  in  the  scriptures,  and 
was  decided  in  his  belief,  that  they  ought  to  be  a  classic, 
not  only  in  female  seminaries  but  also  in  all  literary 
institutions.  His  piety  was  deeply  in-wrought  and  was 
apparent  in  his  whole  conversation  and  life. 

Your  brother  was  more  remarkable  for  no  one  thing 
than  for  doing  whatever  he  did  with  all  his  might.  In 
study,  in  conversation,  in  teaching,  in  prayer,  and  in 
preaching  he  brought  all  his  power  into  action,  and  his 
whole  soul  was  absorbed.  This  was  the  secret  together 
with  his  simplicity  and  perspicuity,  of  his  popularity  and 
great  success  as  a  teacher,  and  of  his  peculiar  power  in 
rousing  and  bringing  into  vigorous  action,  all  the  ener- 

*  Here,  too,  he  put  in  requisition  a  sanctified  philosophy.  "  If  at  any 
time,"  said  he  once  to  a  friend,  "  I  find  an  emotion  of  displeasure  rising  in 
my  heart,  I  put  on  a  smile,  and  that  destroys  the  feeling.  If  any  one  else 
is  disposed  to  try  this  method  he  can." 


FROM    DR.    TENNEY.  435 

gies  of  his  pupils.  This  was  the  secret  of  his  commend- 
ing himself  in  the  pulpit  to  the  consciences  of  all  his 
hearers,  who  always  felt  themselves  moved  and  instructed 
by  his  discourses.  This  was  the  secret  of  his  feeble 
health  and  of  his  early  death.  His  mind  was  too  active 
and  too  much  employed,  to  preserve  health,  or  secure 
Length  of  days. 

His  has  been  a  life  of  uncommon  usefulness.  Omitting 
all  other  particulars,  I  here  allude  only  to  the  good  he 
did  in  this  place,  and  as  the  teacher  and  principal  of  his 
Seminary.  Permit  me  just  to  say,  as  a  tribute  of  per- 
sonal gratitude  and  respect,  that  to  myself  he  was  of 
great  service  as  a  friend,  a  brother,  a  wise  counsellor 
and  a  frequent  assistant  in  the  devotions  and  ministra- 
tions of  the  sanctuary  and  at  the  table  of  Christ. 
The  instruction  he  imparted  to  a  multitude  of  our  youth, 
co-operated  perfectly  in  its  influence  with  the  high  de- 
sign of  the  ministry.  In  the  introduction  and  establish- 
ment of  female  seminaries  in  New  England,  he  was 
very  much  a  pioneer.  Such  celebrity  did  he  secure  to 
his  institution  for  its  system,  accuracy,  thoroughness, 
and  christian  character,  that  far  and  wide  he  spread  be- 
fore the  public  mind  the  importance  of  female  education. 
His  may  properly  be  called  a  parent  institution.  For 
several  of  his  pupils  and  many  others  followed  his  ex 
ample  in  establishing  schools  of  a  high  order  for  young 
ladies.  His  usefulness  in  this  respect,  has  surpassed 
that  of  any  other  teacher  of  females  within  the  last  hall 
century.* 

Besides  this,  the  instruction  he  actually  communicated 
to  many,  many  hundreds  of  minds,  and  the  success  with 
which  he  taught  them  /ioir  to  think,  how  to  read,  how  to 
learn  and  how  to  feel  and  act,  constitute  an  untold  amount 
of  good.  By  liim  a  vast  number  were  prepared  for  ele- 
vated stations  in  domestic  life,  and  many  to  become  the 
companions  of  ministers  and  missionaries  i<>  the  heathen. 
Repeatedly  was  lus  seminary  visited  by  the  gracious  in- 
fluences of  the  Spirit,  under  which  not  a  lew  were  sealed 

*  The  views  of  my  brother's  influence  on  female  education,  as  ex- 
pressed  here  and  elsewhere,  an*  not  t<>  be  understood  as  derogating  from 
tii>'  nserul  labors  of  bis  COtemporaries  or  his  predecessors.  Woodbridge, 
Herrick,  and  others  had  labored  to  good  purpose  in  parts  of  the  same  wide 
field. 


436 


FROM    DR.    TENNEY. 


to  the  day  of  redemption.  Tims  he  has  spread  exten- 
sively a  healthful,  redeeming  influence  in  the  church 
and  in  the  world — an  influence  which  lives  and  acts 
while  he  sleeps — an  influence  which  is  no  small  item  in 
that  great  amount  of  influence,  which  is,  under  God,  to 
renovate  the  world.  Already  does  it  clearly  appear, 
that  wise  was  that  providence,  in  the  failure  of  his 
health,  which  drove  him  from  the  ministry  to  the  em- 
ployment of  a  teacher  of  the  young. 

It  was  rational  to  expect,  that  such  a  man  would  have 
a  calm  and  peaceful  death.  His  was  indeed  of  this 
character.  Persuaded,  months  before  his  exit,  that  the 
time  of  his  departure  drew  near,  he  set  his  house  in 
order  and  prepared  for  the  last.  Uniformly  was  he 
composed.  Uniformly  did  he  abound  in  counsel,  ad- 
monition, and  conversation  fitted  to  his  dying  condition. 
In  much  that  he  said,  his  heart  was  full,  his  language 
strong,  and  his  very  countenance  expressive.  He  said 
to  myself,  "  I  have  always  in  my  life  had  fears  of  death 
and  a  dread  of  the  grave,  but  both  are  now  gone."  To 
the  remark,  God  renders  your  passage  to  the  grave  pleas- 
ant,he  replied,  "I  fear  too  pleasant,  there  is  nothing 
but  pleasantness  in  it."  To  two  brethren  in  the  minis- 
try, he  said ;  "  the  ministry  never  appeared  to  me  be- 
fore so  important  and  glorious.  Be  faithful,  brethren, 
in  your  great  work.  I  trust  I  am  going  upward ;  in  a 
little  while,  one  of  you  will  be  called  upward ;  and  the 
other,  not  long  after.  The  reward  is  glorious."  To  the 
inquiry,  How  do  you  feel  to-day,  Sir  1  he  replied,  "  I  feel 
as  though  I  had  been  in  heaven  for  two  days."  When 
told  he  had  been  enabled  to  do  much  for  Christ,  he  an- 
swered, "  That  is  too  strong;  compared  with  those  who 
have  done  nothing,  I  have  done  a  good  deal."  He 
spoke  with  rapture  of  the  certainty  and  glory  of  the 
millennium  and  rejoiced  in  view  of  the  advance  of 
Christ's  kingdom,  since  he  came  upon  the  stage.  In  a 
word,  the  Rev.  Joseph  Emerson  was  iu  life  a  rare  in- 
stance of  one,  who  in  the  view  of  observers,  did  no  evil, 

and  GREAT  GOOD  WITH  ALL  1IIS  MIGHT.       1 1  is    end  WUS  full 

of  heaven  and  immortality.  Though  dead,  lie  \  el  speak- 
eth.  Mis  name,  in  our  region,  is  as  precious  ointment 
poured  forth. 

Thus,  Rev.  and  dear  Sir,  I  have  very  imperfectly  sug-- 


CAUSES    OP    HIS    EFFICIENCY.  4^7 

gested  a  few  things  respecting  your  lamented  brother, 
while,  from  my  own  declining  health,  I  am  obliged  en- 
tirely to  omit  many  of  his  excellencies  as  a  man  and  an 
instructer,  as  a  christian  and  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel. 
The  whole  is  at  your  entire  disposal,  with  my  sincere 
prayer  that  your  memoirs  of  your  brother  may  be  as 
useful  as  was  kis  life. 

With  affectionate  respects, 

Your  brother  in  the  Gospel, 

Caleb  J.  Tenney. 

How  is  it  that  my  brother,  invalid  as  he  always  was, 
came  to  accomplish  so  much  ?  The  elements  to  the  true 
answer,  have  in  part  been  given  in  different  passages  of 
his  life.  It  may  here  be  added,  that  perhaps  one  reason 
is  to  be  found  in  the  very  fact  that  he  ivas  an  invalid. 
This  led  him  to  feel  more  deeply  the  importance  of  im- 
proving the  strength  he  had.  Often  regarding  death  as 
very  near,  and  never  as  at  a  great  distance,  he  was  made 
to  live  in  view  of  an  opening  eternity,  and  to  look  on  all 
around  him  as  beings  whom  he  should  shortly  meet  in  the 
other  world.  This  feeling  could  not,  indeed,  increase  his 
physical  powers ;  but  no  more  could  it  fail  to  call  forth 
the  powers  he  had,  and  to  give  point  and  energy  and 
double  solemnity  to  all  his  efforts. 

It  may  also  be  true,  that  some  diseases,  or  rather  the 
particular  location  of  a  malady  that  would  otherwise 
press  as  a  leaden  weight  on  the  whole  system,  may  have 
rather  a  happy  effect  on  the  clearness  and  vigor  of  the 
mental  powers,  especially  when  such  location  is  in  the 
extremities,  and  is  not  productive  of  much  pain. 

Another  cause  of  his  efficiency,  is  to  be  found  in  the 
useful  direction  of  his  energies.  He  always  had  some 
important  object  to  accomplish.  Indeed  his  plans  of 
practical  usefulness,  were  rather  too  many  than  too  few. 
To  a  person  who  was  once  lamenting,  that  he  had  no 
prominent  object  to  call  forth  his  powers,  my  brother 
replied;  "So  far  am  I  from  being  troubled  with  that 
evil,  that  I  should  be  glad  to  employ  ten  journeymen  on 
the  important  objects  I  wish  to  accomplish."  And  not 
only  had  he  important  business  always  on  hand,  but  he 
was  always  engaged  in  it,  at  home  and  abroad,  by  night 

37* 


438  CAUSES    OF 

and  by  day.  On  the  wakeful  pillow,  and  in  other  por- 
tions of  time  which  most  persons  spend  in  revery,  his 
thoughts  were  employed  to  good  purpose — perhaps  in 
prayer,  in  self-examination,  in  fixing  his  acquisitions  of 
knowledge  more  perfectly  in  his  memory,  or  in  devising- 
something  useful.  And  the  care  he  took  to  preserve  his 
good  thoughts,  is  also  deserving  of  special  notice  in  this 
connexion.  Milton  was  not  more  careful  to  treasure  up 
a  poetic  idea  that  might  come  to  him  at  midnight,  nor  is 
the  miser  more  prompt  to  pocket  the  guinea  he  finds  in 
the  street,  than  was  my  brother  to  seize  any  bright 
thought  or  project  that  chanced  to  flit  before  his  mind, 
however  deeply  engaged  in  other  things.  And  this  he 
would  do  about  as  quick  as  the  miser  would  put  the  gold 
in  his  pocket,  by  writing  some  catch-word  to  the  thought, 
on  a  scrap  of  paper,  or  in  a  blank  book.* 

Nor  would  he  spend  his  time  in  idle  rending,  any  more 
than  in  idle  revery.  Novels  he  utterly  abjured ;  and  in 
periodical  literature,  he  indulged  but  little,  and  that,  with 
great  care  in  the  selection,  and  principally  with  reference 
to  religion  and  the  advancement  of  Christ's  kingdom. 

Had  it  not  been  for  his  adherence  to  a  judicious  system 
cf  effort,  in  these  and  some  other  respects  before  noticed,  he 
could  have  accomplished  but  a  small  part  of  what  it  was 
his  privilege  and  his  delight  to  devise  and  to  effect.  The 
same  gracious  Providence  which  protected  his  frail  life, 
also  gave  him  this  practical  wisdom.  And  the  same  Di- 
vine Spirit  which  called  his  soul  into  the  kingdom  of 
light,  inspired  him  with  that  celestial  fervor  which  was 
the  prime  fountain  of  all  his  christian  usefulness.  To 
that  Spirit  and  that  Providence,  will  it  be  his  eternal 
delight  to  ascribe  the  glory  of  all  he  effected  while  on 
earth,  and  all  the  good  which  may  yet  result  from  his 
labors. 

One  word  more  on  the  great  subject  of  the  millenni- 
um, is  requisite  to  a  proper  view  of  the  special  causes 
of  his  usefulness.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  vivid  faith 
and  glowing  interest  he  felt  in  this  grand  renovation,  his 

*  This  was  a  bond  volume,  of  150  pages,  which  he  had  by  him  in  his 
study,  and  carried  with  him  in  his  journeys  ;  and  lie  has  left  it  nearly  rilled 
with  thoughts,  projects,  and  divers  memoranda. 


HIS    EFFICIENCY.  430 

life  had  been  far  less  happy  and  far  less  useful.  This 
interest  was  early  inspired  in  his  bosom  ;  and  its  fervors 
increased  to  his  dying  hour.  And  the  whole  effect  was 
of  the  most  practical  kind  that  can  be  imagined  ;  while, 
at  the  same  time,  it  led  hiin,  (unlike  the  chiliasts  of  old, 
and  some  of  later  date,)  to  no  fanciful  schemes  for  pro- 
moting this  glorious  change.  "  This  subject,"  says  his 
daughter,  in  her  memoranda  of  his  last  days,  "from  an 
early  stage  in  his  religious  course,  was  a  solace  in  every 
affliction,  and  seemed  to  irradiate  every  science,  every 
duty,  and  every  place.  To  promote  the  glory  of  Christ 
in  hastening  this  day,  was  the  ruling  passion  of  his  soul, 
and  whatever  study  or  pursuit  did  not  seem  adapted  to  this 
end,  was  thrown  aside  as  worse  than  useless.  I  have 
sometimes  marvelled,  that  his  mind  should  be  so  deeply 
interested  upon  a  subject  to  which  christians  in  general 
pay  so  little  attention.  On  expressing  my  surprise  to 
him,  at  one  time,  he  said,  I  was  amazingly  interested 
when  I  was  about  ten  years  old,  in  hearing  Mr.  Spauld- 
ing  talk  of  the  grand  millennium ;  and  I  have  always  been 
interested  in  it ;  and  it  is  one  of  the  most  astonishing 
things  in  the  world,  that  christians  should  think  so  little 
about  it.     It  seems  as  if  their  eyes  were  holdcn." 

Before  his  eye,  the  millennium  stood  as  the  bright 
vision  of  a  glorious  reality;  and  every  event  around  him, 
and  every  act  of  his  own,  was  viewed  in  its  relation  to 
this  consummation.  The  man  of  the  world  is  not  more 
steadily  bent  on  the  accumulation  of  fortune,  nor  the 
patriot  on  the  deliverance  of  his  suffering  country,  than 
was  he  on  contributing  his  aid,  however  feeble,  to  this 
deliverance  of  a  world  from  satan's  bondage. 

For  the  very  purpose  of  inspiring  such  views  and 
feelings  as  these — and  such  a  life  as  this — were  the  rich 
promises  given,  which  crowd  the  word  of  God  ;  which 
fired  the  hearts  of  ancient  seers;  and  which  will  soon 
fire  the  hearts  of  a  more  blessed  generation  than  has  yet 
existed.  When  all  good  men  shall  thus  feel  and  thus 
live,  the  millennium  will  very  soon  be.  Amen  Even  so, 
come,  Loud  Jesus. 


APPENDIX. 


The  following  account  of  our  ancestors,  was  drawn  up  by  my 
brother,  on  his  dying  bed,  as  already  stated  in  the  body  of  this 
work.  It  is  placed  at  ihe  end  of  the  volume,  not  through  any 
want  of  respect  to  a  revered  ancestry,  but  from  the  apprehension, 
that  the  extent  of  these  notices  might  detain  rs  too  long 

from  the  parti  ular  subject  of  the  foregoing  work.  Had  my  brother 
lived  to  execute  his  own  [dan,  this  account  would  very  properly 
have  retained  the  place  he  h:id  assigned  it. 

Two  classes  of  readers  may  find  a  special  interest  in  the  narra- 
tives here  subjoined.  The  first  are  the  numerous  descendants  of 
the  persons  here  noticed;  the  second  class  are  those  who  delight  in 
the  antiquities  of  our  country,  and  such  as  are  fond  of  genealogical 
investigations.  For  the  sake  of  these  classes,  if  for  no  others,  the 
facts  are  deemed  worthy  of  a  record  in  this  place.  According  to 
my  brother's  arrangement,  they  were  to  constitute  a  separate  and 
preliminary  chapter,  which  he  thus  began. 

MY      ANCESTORS. 

"A  son  honoreth  his  father."  This  duty  is  to  me  peculiarly  de- 
lightful It  is  but  giving  honor  to  whom  honor  is  due.  Most 
gladly  would  1  reflect  back, upon  all  my  known  an  much 

honor  as  they  have  conferred  upon  me.  I  have  reason  to  believe, 
that  they  were  all  honored  in  their  day,  and  some  reason  t"  hope, 
that  they  are  all  now  rejoicing  together  in  h<  »me  of  them 

were  highly  distinguished,   and   are    peculiarly  deserving   of  ever- 
lasting remembrance.     O  that  I  were  worthy  of  such  an  an 
i  it  from  such  characters,  should  surely  be  regarded  as  a  sub- 

stantial privilege — a  real  blessing.  For  though  we  must  stand  or 
fall  in  a  great  measure  according  to  our  own  personal  conduct,  and 
be  judged  wholly  according  to  our  deeds,  in  the  world  to  come,  yet 
doubtless  the  influence  of  excellent  parents  and  ancestors,  is  among 
the  most  hopeful  means  of  forming  us  to  virtue.  They  may  be 
considered  as  a  kind  of  monitors  and  guardians,  to  point  our  way 
and  uri_r''   lis  onward  in  the  course   of  good  I  s.  we  may 

hope,  it' we  do  not  most  obstinately  and  wickedly  refuse  the  boon, 
that  they  have  laid  up  a  store  of  prayers  and  covenant  engage- 
ments, which  will  descend  in  blessings  upon  our  heads.  (See  Gen. 
xvii,  7  )  Notwithstanding  my  many  and  great  imperfections, there 
is  no  doubt  they  would  have  been  much  greater  still,  had  all  these 


442  PETER    BULKLEY. 

ancestors  been  opposite  characters.     As  for  me  and  my  house,  may 
God  give  us  grace  to  walk  worthy  of  our  fathers. 

Bulklcy  and  Fiskc.  Two  of  my  ancestors  were  distinguished 
above  the  rest.  These  were  Peter  Bulkley  and  John  Fiske.  They 
were  both  delivered  from  the  furnace  of  England,  and  brought  to 
this  western  wilderness,  nearly  at  the  same  time.  They  were  both 
wealthy,  and  benefactors  to  others;  both  distinguished  ministers  of 
the  gospel;  founders  of  churches;  fathers  of  Massachusetts;  gen- 
uine puritans,  and  among  the  most  distinguished  of  that  illus- 
trious band.  They  were  among  my  elder  and  more  remote  an- 
cestors, being  both  great-grandfathers  to  my  grandfather  Emerson 
of  Holies. 

Peter  Bulkley,  the  elder  of  the  two  pilgrims,  was  born  in  Eng- 
land, 1583,  being  four  years  older  than  Winthrop.  Alter  receiving  a 
college  education,  he  was  twenty-one  years  a  minister  in  England. 
At  the  age  of  fifty-two,  he  came  to  this  country.  The  next  year, 
163G,  he  formed  the  church  in  Concord,  being  the  twelfth  in  Mas- 
sachusetts, and  was  soon  regularly  established  as  their  minister. 
In  the  year  ]637,  in  connection  with  Mr.  Hooker,  he  was  modera- 
tor of  the  synod  of  Cambridge,  occasioned  by  the  errors  of  Ann 
Hutchinson.  He  was  distinguished  as  a  scholar,  an  author,  and  a 
preacher;  and  perhaps  still  more,  for  his  ardor  and  gifts  in  prayer. 
Respecting  this,  tradition  has  left  us  an  anecdote  that  is  worthy  of 
permanent  record.  When  Concord  had  arrived  at  some  degree  of 
consideration,  it  attracted  the  notice  of  a  neighboring  tribe  of  In- 
dians, who  panted  for  its  goods  and  thirsted  for  the  blood  of  its 
inhabitants.  Having  conspired  its  destruction,  they  held  a  council 
upon  the  best  time  and  means  of  attacking  Concord.  Several  ani- 
mating speeches  were  made  in  favor  of  the  enterprise.  At  length 
an  old  chief  arose,  and  said  to  this  effect:  "Brothers,  your  plan  is 
not  good;  you  cannot  take  Concord;  the  great  spirit  will  not  suffer 
it.  Don't  you  know,  Bulkley  is  there,  the  man  of  the  big  pray! 
You  can  never  take  Concord."  This  frustrated  their  plot  and  de- 
livered Concord.  This  deliverance  was  no  doubt  in  answer  to  the 
good  man's  prayers,  though  at  that  time  he  probably  knew  nothing 
of  those  machinations.     He  died  in  1659,  aged  76. 

His  daughter  was  married  to  Joseph  Emerson,  minister  of  Men- 
don.  They  were  the  parents  of  Peter  Emerson  of  Reading,  who 
was  the  father  of  Daniel  Emerson,  minister  of  Holies,  who  was  the 
father  of  Daniel  Emerson,  my  immediate  father.  Or,  to  state  the 
whole  line  more  briefly.  Peter  Bulkley,  Elizabeth  Bulkley,  after- 
wards Elizabeth  Emerson,  Peter  Emerson,  Rev.  Daniel  Emerson, 
Dea.  Daniel  Emerson,  Joseph  Emerson.*     [See  Allen's  Biographi- 

*  The  genealogy  of  the  Bulkley's  is  traced  for  a  period  of  about  six  hundred 
years;  but  concerning  most  of  the  line,  perhaps  little  if  any  tiling  is  now  known, 
except  their  names,  which  stand  in  the  following  order; — Robert  Bulkley;  Wil- 
liam; Robert;  Peter;  Hugh;  who  died  in  1450;  Humphrey;  William;  Thomas;  Rev. 
Edward,  D.  D.;  and  Rev.  Peter,  B.  D.,  the  same  that  is  mentioned  in  the  text 
above,  and  who  came  to  this  country.  According  to  this  list,  my  brother  belonged 
to  the  fifteenth  generation  from  Robert  Bulkley. 

Some  materials  are  here  afforded  to  aid  the  inquisitive  in  determining  the 
length  of  a  generation  of  common  men,  with  somewhat  greater  accuracy  than  from 
the  data  generally  employed  by  chronologists,  viz.  the  reigns  of  princes.  The 
lives  of  princes  are  often  shoiter  than  they  would  probably  have  been  in  the  sober 
and  peaceful  walks  of  common  life.     Some  die  by  the  sword;  more,  by  the  dagger 


GENEALOGICAL  COMPUTATIONS.  443 

cal  Dictionary  and  Mather's  Magnalia,  in  which  will  be  found 
many  other  interesting  particulars.] 

John  Fuke,  related  to  me  in  the  same  degree  with  Peter  Bulk- 
ley,  was  threat-grandfather  to  my  grandfather  Rev.  Daniel  Emer- 
son. His  daughter,  Elizabeth  Fiske,  was  the  first  wife  of  Esq. 
Brown  of  Reading.  Their  daughter,  Anna  Brown,  was  the  wife 
of  Peter  Emerson,  and  they  were  the  parents  of  my  grandfather,  as 
already  mentioned. 

Mr.  Fiske  was  born  in  England  in  1001,  where  he  was  publicly 
educated,  and  became  a  minister  of  the  gospel.  Greatly  distin- 
guished for  piety,  and  persecuted  for  righteousness'  sake,  he  fled 
to  this  country  in  1087.  Coming  in  the  same  ship  with  John  Allen, 
afterwards  minister  of  Dedham,  they  were  accustomed   to  preach 

and  by  poison;  ami  more  still,  by  sensual  indulgence.  We  may,  then,  well  sup- 
pose, that  if  accurate  genealogical  tables  of  men  in  common  life,  had  been  kept  as 
extensively  aa  those  of  long  Huts  of  princes,  they  would  have  shown  a  result  in 
favor  of  ordinary  life,  in  respect  to  longevity.  And  some  allowance  has  in  fact 
sometimes  been  made,  on  conjectural  grounds  of  this  nature.  On  these  principles, 
a  generation  has  been  commonly  computed  at  thirty  years.  Let  us  now  glance  at 
the  facts  presented  in  the  above  pedigree,  and  see  how  the  result  agrees  with  the 
computation  from  royal  life.  The  first  date  which  we  find  in  this  li-t,  is  at  the 
death  of  Hugh,  the  fifth  in  the  series,  which  occurred  in  14.">0.  From  him  to  Rev. 
Peter-Bulkley,  who  died  1659,  we  have  five  generations;  and,  as  will  be  seen  by 
computation,  nearly  42  years  to  a  generation.  For  the  subsequent  five  generations 
that  remain,  viz.  from  the  death  of  Rev.  Peter  B.,  1659,  to  the  death  of  my  brother, 
1833,  we  have  17  I  years;  which  gives  nearly  35  years  to  a  generation.  By  this  it 
would  seem,  that  life  has  grown  shorter,  in  these  generations,  by  seven  years.  It 
is,  however,  possible  that,  in  this  period,  the  line  was  continued  more  in  the  older 
sons  of  their  respi  ctive  families,  than  it  was  in  the  former  period.  This  would 
increase  the  number  of  successions  in  a  given  period.  And  as  to  at  least  two  of 
the  five,  they  certainly  were  among  the  oldest  sous,  my  father  being  a  first  son, 
and  my  brother  a  second.  It  is  obvious,  too,  that  early  marriages  must  affect  the 
computation.  These  are  probably  more  frequent  in  this  country,  where  the  last 
five  generations  base  lived,  than  in  England,  where  the  means  of  supporting  a 
family,  are  not  so  easily  acquired.  Thus,  for  instance,  it  has  happened,  from  one 
or  both  of  these  causes,  that  we  have  only  five  successions  from  Joseph  E.  of 
Mendon,  through  the  line  of  my  grandfather,  while  there  are  six  successions 
through  that  of  my  grandmother  E.  who  was  a  descendent  from  the  same  Joseph. 
This  met.  by  tin!  way,  affords  a  presumption  that  five  successions  in  this  period, 
(the  number  I  am  u < i 1 1 u . ;>  is  not  too  great  for  the  ordinary  tact  in  this  country, 
however  it  may  be  in  Europe.  It  is,  however,  the  prevalent  doctrine,  that  lon- 
gevity has  increased  instead  of  being  diminished,  in  this^time. 

But  be  this  as  it  may,  let  us  now  take  the  whole  series  of  the  ten  generations) 
whose  dates  we  here  have,  and  we  shall  find  the  average  to  be  considerably  longer 
than  the  period  commonly  assigned  to  a  generation.  The  whole  period  is  383 
which  affords  38  years  to  a  generation,  instead  of  only  30,  the  common  pe- 
riod now  assigned. —  lu  ancient  days,  Herodotus  allowed  three  generations  to  a 
century,  or  about  :•;;!  years  to  each  generation;  while  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus, 
reckoned  but  generation. 

Should  curiosity  mow  prompt  the  inquiry.  When  was  Robert  B.,  our  first  named 
ancestor,  probably  born?  the  question  may  be  answered  by  computing  backward, 
from  1450,  for  the  first  five  generations  of  which  we  have  »«  dat< .  It  will  proba- 
bly be  ri_'ht,  in  this  computation,  to  assume  at  least  as  long  a  period  to  each  suc- 
cession, as  we  find  in  the  .-.-mind  live  generations;  for  the  comparative  few  who 
arrive  at  adult  age  in  a  rude  state  of  society,  are  supposed  generally  to  live  longer 
than  those  in  a  more  refined  state — a  principle  continued  by  the  facts  ju-t  consid- 
ered respecting  the  comparative   longevity   of  the  second  and   third   portions. 

Assumini'   IS  .  I    the    ratio,  it  will  cany  us  back  to  the   year   J-J40,    for 

the  date  of  the  di  ath  of  Robert's  lather.  Allowing  him,  then,  to  have  been  seven 
years  old,  at  the  death  of  bis  father,  we  have  the  year  1233,  for  the  nativity  of 
Robert  B. 

I  may  add,  that  at  this  period,  family  name?  had  just  begun  to  be  common,  the 
earliest  trace  even  among  the  nobility  of  Germany,  being  in  1 162.  He  may  there- 
fore have  been  the  first  of  the  name.     [Sec  Enc.  Americana,  Art.  Genealogy.] 


444  J.  F1SKE J.  EMERSON S.  MOODY. 

two  sermons  a  day,  during  the  voyage,  greatly  to  the  edification 
and  comfort  of  their  seafaring  brethren.  One  of  the  passengers, 
bein<r  reproved  for  fishing  on  tbe  Sabbath,  protested,  that  he  did 
not  know  that  it  was  the  Sabbath;  for,  said  lie,  they  do  nothing  but 
pray  o,nd  preach  all  the  week  long.  To  some,  this  may  seem  like 
supererogation,  or  being  righteous  over  much.  But  by  the  chris- 
tian, who  well  considers  the  circumstances,  it  must  doubtless  be 
regarded  as  a  bright  specimen  of  puritan  piety,  and  well  pleasing 
to=God. 

After  preaching  for  some  years  in  Salem,  he  became  minister  of 
the  first  church  in  Wenham,  about  the  year  1644.  In  1656,  he  re- 
moved to  Chelmsford,  with  the  greater  part  of  his  church,  and  be- 
came the  first  minister  of  that  place,  which  was  then  new.  He 
there  continued,  most  laborious  and  faithful  in  his  work,  for  twenty 
years,  and  died  at  the  commencement  of  1677.  Six  years  before, 
he  was  called  to  one  of  his  severest' afflictions.  This,  says  Cotton 
Mather,  "was  the  loss  of  his  concordance,  1  mean,  of  his  godly  and 
worthy  consort,  who,  by  her  incomparable  expertness  in  the  scrip- 
tures.'had  rendered  any  other  concordance  of  the  bible,  useless  unto 
his  library-"  [See  Allen,  and  Mather,  and  also  W.  Allen's  History 
of  Chelmsford.] 

Joseph  Emerson.  This  man  has  been  already  mentioned  as  the 
husband  of  Elizabeth  Bulkley.  Of  his  history,  very  little  is  known. 
There  is  no  doubt,  that  he  came  from  England,  and  was  perhaps 
the  progenitor  of  all  the  Emersons  that  have  since  lived  in  this 
country.  He  was  minister  of  Mendon.  In  a  few  years,  that  little 
settlement  was  broken  up  by  the  Indians.  It  is  probable,  that  he 
then  removed  with  his  family  to  Concord,  where  he  died  in  1GS0. 
Not  long  after,  his  bereaved  wife  removed  with  her  children  to 
Reading,  where  she  was  the  second  wife  of  Esq.  Brown.  Her  son, 
Peter  Emerson,  married  Anna  Brown,  the  jrrand  daughter  of  Mr. 
Fiske;  and  these  became  the  parents  of  D.  E.,  minister  of  Holies, 
as  already  mentioned. 

Samuel  Moody  of  York.  This  excellent  and  singular  man  was 
also  among  my  ancestors.  He  was  born  in  1676.  After  being  edu- 
cated at  Harvard  College,  he  became  minister  of  York  in  Maine  in 
1700.  He  was  distinguished  for  piety,  and  zealous,  faithful  preach- 
incr.  But,  unhappily,  he  was  still  more  distinguished  for  singular- 
ity3 of  conduct.  Some  of  his  posterity  have  been  suspected  of  in- 
heriting from  him  this  most  undesirable  leaven  which  may  un- 
doubtedly be  regarded  both  as  his  calamity  and  his  crime. 

He  once  went  into  a  tavern,  and  among  a  number  of  gamblers 
found  a  member  of  his  church.  In  his  indignation,  he  seized  and 
dragged  him  out  of  the  house. 

In  one  of  his  sermons,  his  doctrine  was,  "When  you  know  not 
what  to  do,  you  must  not  do  you  know  not  what.*' 

I  had  the  following  anecdote  from  Prof.  Sewall  of  Cambridge, 
nearly  forty  years  ago.  Being  invited  to  go  as  chaplain,  with  some 
of  our  troops  in  the  expedition  against  Louisburg,  he  replied,  "I 
will  go  with  you;  we  shall  succeed  in  taking  it;  and  I  shall  cut 
down  the  cross  there."  When  about  to  embark  for  that  enterprise, 
he  seized  his  axe,  and  jumping  on  board  exclaimed,  The  swoid  of 
the  Lord  and  of  Gideon.  After  the  capture  of  Louisburg,  he  actual- 
ly cut  down  tlie  object  of  papal  worship,  as  he  had  foretold. 


REV.    JOSEPH    AND    REV.    DANIEL    EMERSON.  445 

It  is  said,  that  he  was  exceedingly  irritable,  and  sometimes  al- 
most outrageous.  Some  have  thought,  however,  that  lie  fully 
atoned  for  these  faults,  by  the  wonderful  humility  and  condescen- 
sion which  he  manifested  in  confessing  them, even  to  children  and 
servants.  But  would  it  not  have  been  much  better,  to  have  for- 
saken these  sins,  so  as  to  leave  no  occasion  to  confess  them.  Were 
not  his  singularities  and  angry  passions,  lusts  of  the  flesh,  that  he 
should  have  crucified?  Had  he  faithfully  done  this,  as  he  might 
have  done,  he  might  probably  have  been  as  great  a  christian  as 
Fiske  or  Bulkley.  Is  it  not  too  common  to  excuse  the  faults  of 
men  by  saying,  "It  is  their  way,''  when  this  their  way  is  their  folly 
and  their  wickedness. 

He  died  1745,  aged  69. 

Mr.  Moody's  daughter  Mary  became  the  wife  of  Joseph  Emer- 
son of  Maiden,  and  mother  of  Hannah  Emeison,  my  grandmother, 
the  wife  of  Rev.  D.  E.  of  Holies. 

Joseph  Emerson  of  Maiden.  This  faithful  servant  of  God  was 
born  at  Chelmsford.  After  being  educated  at  Harvaid  College,  he 
became  minister  of  Maiden,  in  1721;  and  died  l?ii?,  aged  (»7.  For 
nearly  half  a  century,  he  preached  on  every  Sabbath  but  two.  He 
was  son  of  Edward  Emerson,  and  grandson  of  Joseph  Emerson  of 
Mendon.  His  wife  was  Mary,  daughter  of  S.  Moody  of  York. 
His  eldest  daughter  was  Hannah  who  became  the  wife  of  Daniel 
Emerson,  minister  of  Holies,  to  whom  she  was  naturally  related  as 
cousin's  daughter. 

Three  of  Mr.  J.  Emerson's  sons,  were  ministers.  Joseph  of  Pep- 
perell,  William  of  Concord,  and  John  of  Conway.  William  E.  of 
Boston,  who  died  in  1811,  was  son  of  William  of  Concord. 

Dank'  Emerson,  minister  of  Holies,  JV.  H.  There  has  been  fre- 
quent occasion  to  mention  him  already.  He  seems  to  be  a  kind  of 
central  point,  from  which  we  may  survey  the  field  of  genealogy. 
He  was  the  son  of  Peter  and  Anna  Emerson,  and  was  born  at 
Reading,  now  South  Reading,  May  20,  O.  S.  171G.  In  his  youth, 
he  was  remarkable  for  his  alertness  and  very  fond  of  the  exercise 
of  skating,  for  which  the  large  and  beautiful  pond  by  his  father's 
dwelling,  afforded  the  best  opportunity.  Tradition  relates  the  ex- 
travagant feats  of  his.  of  this  kind. 

He  wras  educated  at  Harvard  college,  where  he  received  his  first 
degree  in  1739,  and  where  he  still  continued  to  reside,  for  some 
time,  as  a  graduate,  and  in  the  capacity  of  butler.  While  at  col- 
lege, he  is  said  to  have  been  fond  of  the  gay  pleasures  of  this  life, 
until  his  attention  uas  effectually  called  to  religion  by  the  preach- 
ing of  Whilefield.  while  on  his  first  tour  through  New  England,  in 
the  autumn  of  1740.  Him  he  followed  from  place  to  place,  for 
several  days.  His  conversion  under  the  preaching  of  such  a  man, 
as  we  may  well  suppose,  exerted  a  poweiful  influence  on  his  sub- 
sequent life,  and  his  style  of  preaching.  Example,  at  that  most  im- 
portant crisis  in  our  existence,  tells  with  its  utmost  power  to  bless 
or  to  blighi  the  budding  character  of  the  new  convert.  Ministers 
should  then  so  preach,  not  only  as  to  save  their  hearers,  but  also  as 
they  would  wish  those  hearers  to  preach,  when  themselves  shall 
have  gone  to  heaven. 

After  becoming  a  preacher,  this  follower  of  Whitefield  was  or- 
dained in  Holies  174a     That  place,  now  so  pleasant,  was  then  but 

38 


446  REV.    DANIEL    EMERSON. 

little  better  than  a  waste  howling  wilderness,  containing  only  thirty 
families.  The  population,  however,  rapidly  increased,  partly  in 
consequence  of  their  having  a  minister,  while  almost  the  whole 
surrounding  region  was  destitute.  Not  long  after  his  settlement, 
his  house  and  large  library  were  consumed  by  fire.  On  this  as  on 
other  occasions,  the  kindness  of  his  people  and  his  friends  abroad, 
was  great. 

Perhaps  none  of  my  ancestors  was  more  extensively  known  in 
his  day,  or  more  admired  as  a  preacher.  The  chief  excellences  of 
his  preaching,  were  sound  doctrine,  deep  feeling,  and  zeal  at  times 
almost  overwhelming.  He  was,  indeed,  a  son  of  thunder,  a  flaming 
new  light.  In  some  respects,  however,  his  preaching  was  very 
imperfect.  With  scanty  study,  having  little  or  nothing  written, 
his  discourses  were  apt  to  be  disconnected,  scattering,  rambling, 
and  sometimes  meagre.  These  deficiencies  were  no  doubt  great 
deductions  from  the  good  effects  of  his  preaching.  Yet  still,  it  is 
probable  that  he  was  among  the  most  useful  men  of  his  age. 
Being  an  able  counsellor,  he  was  much  employed  in  this  work,  both 
far  and  near. 

He  was  also  very  frequently  abroad,  for  the  purpose  of  preaching, 
attending  funerals,  etc.  in  neighboring  towns  during  their  early 
destitution.  He  was.  in  fact,  tbe  bishop  of  the  whole  region.  His 
labors  were  much  blessed  among  his  own  people,  where  he  wit- 
nessed several  revivals  of  religion;  and  where  such  revivals  have 
been  frequently  repeated,  down  to  the  present  time; — and  where, 
in  connection  with  the  revivals,  about  thirty  ministers  of  the  gospel 
have  been  raised  up;  which  is  probably  a  larger  number  than  has 
been  afforded  by  any  other  place  of  equal  population  in  this  coun- 
try, with  the  exception  of  South  Hampton,  Ms.  The  important 
and  responsible  duty  of  selecting  and  encouraging  suitable  young 
men  for  the  sacred  work,  was  early  inculcated,  and  a  kind  of  female 
education  society  existed  there,  near  the  commencement  of  this 
century,  if  not  before. 

In  the  French  war,  he  served  as  chaplain  in  the  army  at  Crown 
Point,  in  1755,  where  he  took  rank  of  other  chaplains,  in  those  days 
of  royal  etiquette,  from  the  trifling  circumstance  of  the  family  coat 
of  arms,  which  contained  three  lions.  A  brief  journal  of  his  during 
his  absence,  is  still  extant.  It  is  said  that  he  was  offered  a  town- 
ship, in  the  northern  part  of  New  Hampshire,  by  the  governor,  in 
approbation  of  his  services,  if  he  would  procure  the  survey;  which 
he  neglected,  as  it  was  then  doubted  whether  the  land  would  ever 
be  of  much  value. 

The  manner  of  preaching  and  the  personal  appearance  of  my 
grandfather,  I  can  recollect.  His  face  had  a  great  resemblance  (o 
that  of  Baxter,  who  flourished  a  hundred  years  before.  He  was  tall 
though  rather  slender,  at  least  in  old  age.  His  complexion  was 
rather  dark.  After  a  ministry  of  fifty  years,  he  received  as  his  col- 
league Rev.  Eli  Smith,  and  in  a  great  measure  ceased  from  his 
labors.  He  died  in  1801,  aged  eighty-five.  His  last  years  were 
peculiarly  gratifying  to  his  friends.  As  he  was  naturally  of  a  very 
ardent  temperament,  and  somewhat  irritable,  it  was  feared,  that  he 
might  be  uncomfortably  peevish  and  fretful,  under  the  infirmities 
and  pains  of  extreme  old  age.  But  the  reverse  was  found  to  be 
remarkably  the  case.     With  a  happy  degree  of  the  lamb-like,  dove- 


.MRS.    HANNAH    EMERSON.  447 

like  disposition  of  the  Savior  and  the  Spirit,  he  languished  into  life. 
This  spirit  of  love  was  doubtless  most  intimately  connected  with 
that  spirit  of  prayer  which  brightly  shone  til!  his  dying  hour. 
When  reason  was  too  far  gone  to  admit  of  connected  thooght  in 
any  other  form,  he  would  pray  with  great  propriety.  While  Bitting 
in  his  great  chair,  he  would  frequently  inquire,  at  different  times  in 
the  day.  if  it  was  not  time  for  prayer.  On  being  answered,  yes,  he 
would  pour  out  his  heart  in  holy  devotion,  unconscious  whether 
he  had  any  to  unite  with  him  or  not.  Sometimes  in  prayer,  he 
would  mention  by  name  such  of  his  grand-children  as  he  could  re- 
collect. 

His  wife,  J !u n null  Emerson,  was  daughter  of  Joseph  and  Mary 
Emerson  of  Maiden,  and  irrand  daughter  of  Samuel  Moody  of 
York,  and  also  of  Edward  Emerson  of  Chelmsford.  She  sustained 
a  character  of  eminent  piety.  So  I  was  accustomed  to  regard  her 
in  my  tender  years.  She  seemed  tome  without  blemish.  Her  fair 
and  lovely  countenance,  at  seventy,  seemed  but  the  emblem  of  her 
fairer  mind.  About  that  time,  1  inquired  of  my  grandfather,  if  she 
was  not  very  handsome  in  her  youth.  By  no  means  displeased 
with  my  impertinence,  he  replied,  "She  had  a  handsome  mind," 
at  the  same  time  shaking  his  head  with  great  energy,  according  to 
his  custom  when  deeply  interested. 

From  early  life,  she  was  afflicted  with  deafness,  which  finally  be- 
came almost  total,  in  fear  of  which  she  would  request  her  friends 
to  pray,  that  her  eye-sight  might  be  preserved. 

For  several  years,  she  was  accustomed  to  attend  the  services  of 
the  sanctuary, sitting  in  the  pulpit,  with  the  head  of  her  long  hear- 
ing trumpet  a  few  inches  distant  from  the  mouth  of  the  speaker. 
After  she  became  unable  thus  to  hear,  the  house  of  God  was  too 
precious  to  be  forsaken.  "There,"  would  she  often  say,  "is  the 
place  to  go  for  a  blessing."  With  the  deepest  interest,  she  would 
read  the  psalms  and  the  text.  No  worshipper  appeared  more  de- 
vout than  she,  and  perhaps  few  were  more  edified.  Sometimes, 
after  her  return  from  meeting,  she  would  inquire  for  the  train  of 
thought  in  the  sermon;  and  when  informed,  would  then,  perhaps, 
say,  "I  supposed  it  was  so,"  or,  "I  thought  it  would  he  thus;"  and 
not  unfrequently,  her  "thoughts"  were  quite  appropriate  to  the 
text  and  perhaps  constituted  as  good  a  sermon  for  her  as  the  one 
we  were  hearing. 

After  she  was  unable  to  hear  her  husband  in  their  social  prayers, 
she  was  accustomed  to  take  the  lead. 

From  the  imperfection  of  her  hearing,  she  was  very  often  ob- 
served to  be  praying  when  she  thought  herself  in  secret.  So  much 
did  she  abound  in  that  duty,  that  she  seemed  almost  literally  to 
comply  with  the  requirement,  "Pray  without  ceasing." 

With  all  her  piety,  she  seemed  to  have  very  little  hope  of  her- 
self, and  would  rarely  acknowledge  that  she  thought  herself  a 
christian.  The  grand  difficulty  with  her,  was,  that  she  knew 
nothing  of  a  change  of  heart  in  herself,  while  she  deeply  realized 
the  necessity  of  being  born  again,  in  order  to  enter  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.  Her  father  supposed,  that  she  experienced  this  great 
change  at  a  time  too  early  for  her  recollection  in  maturer  years. 
Once  in  her  life,  and  probably  but  once,  she  was  so  filled  with  the 
love  of  Christ  as  to  exclaim,   <;My  Redeemer  is  mine  and  I  will 


448  DEA.    DANIEL    EMERSON. 

praise  him."  She  afterwards  much  regretted,  that  these  words  had" 
escaped  her  lips.  lest  others  should  think  more  highly  of  her  than 
they  ought.  She  seemed  a  most  remarkable  instance  of  one  who 
feared  the  Lord,  and  obeyed  the  voice  of  his  servants,  still  walking 
in  darkness.  Alas!  how  much  precious  comfort  did  she  lose  by- 
adopting  a  defective  rule  of  self-examination.  Though  every 
christian  has  passed  from  death  unto  life,  yet  many  who  give  the 
most  comfortable  evidence  to  others,  cannot  tell  either  the  time  or 
the  circumstances  of  this  spiritual  resurrection.  But  if  they  can 
find  the  true  life  in  them,  it  is  comparatively  of  little  importance  to 
ascertain  at  what  hour  of  the  night  they  rose  from  the  dead,  or 
whether  this  blessed  change  was  attended  with  earthquake,  tem- 
pest, thunder,  or  merely  a  still  small  voice.  It  may,  indeed,  be 
exceedingly  pleasant  and  profitable,  for  christians  that  are  able,  to 
declare  to  one  another,  what  God  has  done  for  their  souls,  both  in 
conviction  and  conversion,  as  well  as  sanctification.  But  after  all, 
the  grand  question  is  not,  When,  or  where,  or  how,  was  1  convert- 
ed? but,  Do  I  sincerely  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ?  Am  I  striving 
to  learn  and  do  his  commandments?  Do  1  bear  the  cross  after  him. 
from  day  to  day? 

Having  attained  the  age  of  ninety.  Mrs.  Emerson  rested  forever, 
as  we  trust,  from  all  her  doubts  and  darkness,  fears  and  sorrows. 

Daniel  Emerson,  Esq. — the  eldest  son  of  Daniel  and  Hannah 
Emerson,  was  born  at  Holies,  Dec.  26,  174(>.  His  means  of  early 
education,  though  inconsiderable,  were  faithfully  improved.  In 
point  of  naturaltalent,  he  was  quite  respectable.  In  the  course  of 
his  life,  when  sometimes  asked  vhrrc  lie  had  his  education,  he  was 
accustomed  to  reply,  at  the  plough;  and  farmer  was  a  name  in 
which  he  always  gloried.  A  great  multiplicity  of  other  pursuits, 
however,  prevented  his  making  those  improvements  in  agriculture, 
that  he  earnestly  desired. 

He  early  engaged  in  the  employment  of  teaching,  by  which  his 
own  education  was  considerably  improved. 

He  was  of  the  common  stature,  rather  inclining  to  corpulency, 
and  his  countenance  and  aspect  exhibited  a  happy  union  of  pleas- 
antness and  dignity.  Sufficiently  decided  in  character  and  con- 
duct, lie  was  rarely  known  to  speak  an  unpleasant  word.  Probably 
to  very  few  can  that  sacred  passage  be  more  justly  applied,  "O 
Daniel,  a  man  greatly  beloved!" 

At  the  age  of  twenty-two,  he  married  Miss  A  ma  Fletcher  of 
Dunstable,  Ms.  Nearly  at  the  same  time,  he  made  a  public  pro- 
fession of  religion.  About  the  year  1778,  he  was  appointed  a 
deacon  in  the  church  at  Holies,  the  duties  of  which  office  he  con- 
tinued to  discharge,  to  good  acceptance,  to  the  day  of  his  death. 

Probably  very  few  men  in  the  common  walks  of  life,  have  ac- 
complished so  much  business,  with  so  much  integrity  and  correct- 
ness, and  so  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  concerned. 

Through  a  great  part  of  his  life,  he  discharged  the  various  and 
responsible  duties  of  Deacon,  Justice  of  the  Peace,  and  repre- 
sentative of  the  town  or  the  county  in  the  legislature  of  New 
Hampshire. 

His  disposition  was  eminently  pacific;  and  his  civil  office  afforded 
him  frequent  opportunities  for  persuading  men  "to  leave  off  con- 
tention before  it  was  meddled  with."    Rarely  if  ever  could  he  be 


DEA.    DANIEL    EMERSON. 


449 


induced  to  issue  a  writ  or  a  warrant,  when  a  spirit  of  litigation  ap- 
peared in  the  applicant.  In  this  way,  he  did  much  to  check  that 
baleful  spirit  in  the  community. 

During  the  revolutionary  war,  he  twice  had  the  command  of 
a  company  of  volunteers,  for  short  periods  of  service;  once  at 
Ticonderoga,  in  J 77( J,  and  once  on  Rhode  Island,  in  177S.  In  the 
latter  company,  were  six  captains,  all  except  himself  then  volun- 
tarily serving  in  subordinate  capacities; — a  circumstance  which 
strongly  marks  the  patriotic  enthusiasm  of  the  times.  Though  he 
often  spoke  of  the  trying  scenes  of  the  revolution,  with  greatardor, 
yet  he  always  lamented  the  corrupting  influence  of  the  army,  and 
the  baleful  effects  of  war  in  general. 

His  private  and  domestic  duties  were  numerous  and  pressing. 
He  had  a  family  and  a  large  farm  to  superintend.  He  was  also 
much  engaged  in  traffic;  and,  for  many  years,  kept  a  small  store. 
In  addition  to  all  these  cares,  he  cared  much  for  the  poor,  and  did 
much  to  relieve  them,  not  so  much  indeed  by  direct  donation  as 
by  "shewing  mercy  and  lending;"  assisting  them  in  paying  their 
debts;  encouraging  them  in  their  business;  and  furnishing  them 
with  useful  employment.  How  often  has  he  made  the  widow's 
heart  to  sing  for  joy.  Having  much  commercial  intercourse  with 
the  poor,  and  hundreds  of  them  being  among  his  debtois,  he  had  it 
often  in  his  power  to  oppress  them,  but  surely  no  person  was  ever 
at  so  great  a  remove  from  the  disposition.  He  rarely  if  ever  resort- 
ed to  the  civil  law  to  compel  the  payment  of  a  debt.  Perhaps  this 
lenity  was  excessive.  It  doubtless  occasioned  many  losses.  Possi- 
bly, in  some  cases,  it  might  encourage  iniquity.  One  man  was 
heard  to  say,  'I  owe  such  and  such  debts,  that  1  must  try  to  pay; 
but  my  debt  to  'squire  Emerson,  I  never  intend  to  pay.'  But  not- 
withstanding these  losses,  'he  was  blessed  in  his  basket  and  in  his 
store' — had  bread  enough  and  to  spare,  which,  from  time  to  time, 
he  had  the  satisfaction  to  cast  upon  the  waters.  Though  not  rich, 
he  had  enough  to  supply  all  his  necessities,  while  he  lived;  and  at 
his  death,  enough  to  leave  to  his  surviving  kindred.  It  was  the 
blessing  of  God  upon  his  honest  and  honorable  enterprizes,  and  his 
uncommon  industry  and  economy.  So  signal  and  affecting  to 
himself  were  these  temporal  blessings,  that  he  was  sometimes  dis- 
tressed with  the  apprehension,  lest  he  should  finally  be  found 
among  those  who  have  their  portion  in  this  world. 

But  what  effect  upon  his  happiness  had  his  pressure  of  busi- 
ness— his  multiplicity  of  perplexing  cares?  and  what  effect  upon 
his  religion.' 

Upon  his  happiness  the  effect  seems  to  have  been  by  no  means  so 
unfavorable  as  we  might  suppose.  Feeling  that  both  body  and 
mind  were  formed  for  activity,  he  delighted  to  act,  "nor  blunder- 
in<r  split  on  idleness  for  ease.  '  No  man  was  more  averse  to  eating 
the  bread  of  idleness,  or  living  upon  the  labors  of  others.  Business 
was  the  element  in  which  he  delighted;  and  in  the  midst  of  per- 
plexity, he  seemed  gratified  with  action.  He  was  generally  cheer- 
ful, and  perhaps  never  gloomy.  He  would,  indeed,  sometimes  say; 
"I  have  so  many  irons  in  the  fire,  that  I  fear,  some  of  them  must 
burn."  But  this  was  Dot  complaining,  nor  in  the  manner  he  uttered 
it.  was  it  an  indication  of  much  unhappiness.  If  something  in  his 
affairs  might  occasionally  suffer,  for   want  of  attention,  the  great 

33* 


450  DEA.    DANIEL    EMERSON. 

multitude  of  them  generally  went  on  prosperously,  under  his  hand 
and  his  eye.  This  was  gratifying,  especially  to  a  man  who  formed 
his  plans,  not  to  gratify  the  lusts  of  the  flesh,  but  for  doing  good. 

But  there  is  reason  to  fear,  that  the  influence  of  his  worldly 
cares  upon  his  spiritual  condition,  was  highly  injurious,  especially 
during  a  considerable  period  of  middle  life.  This  we  might  rea- 
sonably expect  from  the  deceitfulness  of  this  present  evil  world. 
It  is  indeed  true,  that  in  external  morality,  in  attendance  upon 
public  worship,  etc.,  he  always  set  an  example  worthy  of  imitation. 
Nay,  more  than  this  is  true.  Sometimes  upon  the  Sabbath,  and  on 
special  occasions,  he  seemed  to  manifest  some  engagedness  in  re- 
ligion; and  in  times  of  revival,  too,  he  was  known  to  be  greatly 
excited,  and  to  pour  forth  his  prayers  and  tears  in  a  most  interest- 
ing manner.  But  in  general,  his  religion  seemed  scarcely  more 
than  a  lifeless  form.  He  was  indeed  very  scrupulous  to  attend 
family  prayer,  morning  and  evening.  But  with  rare  exceptions,  it 
was  cold  repetition  of  nearly  the  same  words.  His  religious  in- 
structions in  the  family,  were  almost  nothing.  He  seemed  to  man- 
ifest but  little  concern  for  our  salvation.*  I  do  not  recollect,  that 
he  ever  prayed  with  me  alone,  or  attempted  to  teach  me  to  pray, 
or  gave  me  any  private  exhortation  to  repent.  Perhaps  some  apol- 
ogy may  be  found  in  the  consideration,  that  the  religious  education 
of  children,  imperfect  as  it  now  is,  was  much  more  imperfect  then. 
My  parents  seemed  to  have  scarcely  any  acquaintance  with  the 
subject.  What  a  change  since  the  days  of  Bulkley  and  Fiske! 
The  religious  intercourse  of  my  father  abroad,  appears  to  have  been 
very  similar  to  what  he  practised  in  the  family,  far  from  being  sea- 
soned by  the  salt  of  grace.  Worldly  cares  produce  worldly  conver- 
sation. His  regard,  too,  for  some  of  the  essential  doctrines  of  the 
gospel,  seemed  to  diminish.  His  influence  in  the  church  was  much 
impaired.  How  small  the  amount  of  good  he  then  performed,  how 
little  the  heavenly  comfort  he  then  enjoyed,  compared  with  what 
they  might  have  been,  if  he  had  dismissed  one  third  of  his  cares7 
and  fully  discharged  the  duties  of  his  high  calling. 

When  1  beheld  him  thus,  I  was  greatly  troubled,  and  felt  pressed 
in  spirit,  that  I  had  a  great  and  momentous  duty  to  do  to  a  parent 
that  I  highly  honored  and  tenderly  loved.  1  felt,  that  I  must  write 
to  bin)  and  tell  him  all  my  heart  upon  the  subject,  in  a  manner 
least  likely  to  give  displeasure,  and  use  my  utmost  endeavors  for 
bis  spiritual  improvement.  This  no  doubt  1  ono-ht  to  have  done. 
But  before  1  collected  resolution  to  begin  this  most  self-denying 
work,  the  Lord  prevented  my  proceeding,  by  manifestly  quicken- 
ing the  graces  of  his  backsliding  servant.  As  he  advanced  towards 
old  age,  about  twenty  years  before  his  death,  a  gradual  change  was 

*  What  my  brother  here  so  frankly  acknowledges  respecting  the  imperfection! 
of  a  dear  father,  is  no  doubt  literally  true:  and  yet  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  say  that, 
although  'he  manifested  but  little  concern  tor  our  salvation,'  I  have  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  he  felt  much  more  than  he  manifested.  One  circumstance  which  long 
since  led  me  to  this  comforting  conclusion,  was  the  great  and  unexpected  joy  and 
gratitude  ho  manifested,  at  a  subsequent  period,  when  one  of  his  younger  children 
expressed  o  hope  of  salvation  and  became  a  men  din-  oft  lie  church.  This  joy  was 
a  proof  of  his  previous  solicitude;  and  I  then  Ihoughl  that,  had  he  previously  man- 
ifested  his  anxiety  to  this  individual,  it  would  have  been  lilt  as  a  powerful  means 
of  grace  to  bring  him  to  earlier  repentance.  But  my  lather  was  naturally  reserved 
in  respect  to  his  religious  feelings  and  solicitudes,  though  in  this  case  he  hud 
occasionally  given  private  counsels  and  brief  exhortations  to  piety. 


DEA.    DANIEL    EMERSON.  451 

manifest,  as  happy  as  it  was  wonderful.  Tiiis  was  particularly  visi- 
ble near  the  time  of  the  great  revival  in  1801.  It  seemed  as  though 
he  were  converted  anew.  From  this  period,  he  was  a  constant  at- 
tendent  at  religious  conferences  and  prayer-meetings,  and  ever 
ready  to  bear  his  part  in  conducting  them.  Previously,  his  attend- 
ence  at  such  meetings  was  but  seldom,  and  rarely  did  he  consent 
even  to  lead  in  their  prayers.  He  was  peculiarly  punctual  at  a 
weekly  prayer-meeting  held  by  a  few  members  of  the  church  in  the 
pastor's  study.  From  this,  he  was  scarcely  ever  absent  till  his 
death;  and  was  frequently  the  only  one  present  from  abroad. 

From  this  period,  with  increasing  ardor  and  delight  did  he  en- 
gage in  the  various  operations  of  God's  people  for  the  spread  of  the 
gospel  abroad  and  the  promotion  of  religion  at  home.  He  was  in- 
strumental in  the  formation  of  the  Philanthropic  Society  of  Holies, 
the  object  of  which  was  the  free  support  of  the  gospel  and  of  schools 
in  that  place;  and  was  the  chief  contributor  to  its  funds.  He  was 
ever  ready  to  aid  the  cause  of  missions.  To  this  and  other  charita- 
ble objects,  he  gave  With  increasing  liberality  as  he  advanced  in 
life.  In  his  later  years,  when  desired  by  some  of  his  children  to 
rest  from  his  cares  and  labors,  his  reply  was;  'I  am  at  work,  not 
for  you,  but  for  the  Lord,  and  have  consecrated  all  my  future  earn- 
ings to  his  treasury.  It  is  my  pleasure  to  work,  and  to  work  for 
him.'  To  this  amount,  and  beyond  it,  he  probably  gave  to  religious 
charities,  for  several  of  the  last  years  of  his  life.  His  house  waa 
also  a  home  for  ministers,  and  had  been  so  from  the  days  ef  our 
grandfather.  His  interest  in  the  distribution  of  tracts,  was  uncom- 
mon, being  in  the  habit  of  procuring. and  carrying  with  him  for  the 
purpose,  small  religious  publications,  long  before  the  formation  of 
the  Tract  Society.  Bibles,  too,  he  often  gave  away,  especially  to 
newly  married  persons,  accompanied  with  good  but  brief  counsels. 
He  was  a  member  and  a  director  of  the  New-Hampshire  Bible  So- 
ciety, for  many  years,  perhaps  from  its  commencement.  He  was 
at  great  pains  in  regularly  attending  the  annual  meetings  of  this 
society;  and  it  was  in  his  last  tour,  chiefly  for  this  purpose,  after 
the  meeting  at  Portsmouth,  in  which  his  holy  zeal  glowed  with 
peculiar  fervor,  that  his  over-excited  system  was  seized  with  the 
paralysis,  of  which  he  died  in  a  few  days.  It  was  kindly  ordered 
in  providence,  that  when  this  calamity  seized  him,  he  was  at  the 
house  of  his  brother,  Dr.  S.  Emerson  of  Kennebunk,  who  kindly 
attended  him  home,  and  did  all  which  could  be  done  for  his  com- 
fort and  recovery.  Though  unable  to  speak,  he  seemed  conscious 
of  his  state,  and  resigned  and  happy.  Thus  during  his  last  years, 
his  faith  continued  to  shine  with  brightening  lustre,  until  it  ended 
as  we  trust  in  heaven. 

It  may  be  proper  here  to  remark,  that  in  the  year  1/95,  my  father 
was  called  to  the  great  trial  of  parting  with  my  worthy  and  honor- 
ed mother.  This  he  appeared  to  bear  in  a  manner  becoming  a 
christian.  The  next  year,  lie  married  Mrs.  Hannah  Moshier  who 
had  two  daughters  at  that  time.  Never  perhaps,  were  two  fami- 
lies more  happily  united  by  a  second  marriage.  She  was  indeed  a 
person  of  uncommon  excellence.  With  very  small  advantages  of 
education,  her  mind  was  considerably  improved.  Without  being 
loquacious,  she  was  an  interesting  and  instructive  companion, 
especially  on  the  great  theme  of  religion,  to  which  her  heart  seem- 


452  MRS.    AMA    EMERSON, 

ed  deeply  and  steadily  devoted.  She  understood  well  her  placer 
and  her  duties.  Few  could  guide  the  house  better.  To  me,  she 
was  all  I  could  expect  from  an  own  mother.  To  my  father,  she 
was  a  help  indeed — his  joy  and  comfort  in  his  advancing  and  de- 
clining years.     She  survived  him  about  ten  years. 

She  was  very  assiduous  and  faithful  in  training  up  the  younger 
children  in  the  ways  of  godliness,  and  often  most  tenderly  urged 
them  to  the  duty  of  immediate  repentance.  Her  religious  in- 
fluence on  the  whole  family,  was  great  and  happy  in  all  respects. 

My  father's  history  in  relation  to  Hopkinsianism,  was  remarka- 
bly singular.  His  opposition,  not  to  say  his  prejudiceragainst  that 
system  of  doctrines,  was  great.  He  labored  much  to  convince 
others  of  their  incorrectness  and  injurious  tendency)  and  none 
more  than  myself.  As  1  was  looking  forward  to  the  ministry,  he 
was  extremely  solicitous  to  guard  me  ajrainst  what  he  considered 
so  great  an  error.  How  much  time  did  we  spend  in  pleasantly 
discussing  the  great  and  knotty  points,  without  making  any  pro- 
gress, except,  perhaps,  to  render  me  more  favorably  disposed  to 
what  he  considered  the  dreadful  system.  My  mind,  however,  was 
biassed  by  the  opinion,  that  Hopkinsians  were  by  far  the  best 
christians  in  the  world,  as  they  seemed  to  me  to  he  much  more 
engaged  than  others.*  But  the  great  wonder  was,  that  among  his 
seven  sons,  whom  he  lived  to  see  ministers  of  the  gospel,  three  or 
four  of  them  were  found  most  decided  Hopkinsians  and  the  rest, 
but  very  little  below  what  he  had  been  acustoined  to  consider  as 
that  bad  eminence.  This  was  more  strange  than  that,  finally,  he 
should  be  almost  persuaded  to  become  a  Hopkinsian  himself,  even 
without  formal  argument. 

Here  it  may  be  proper  to  remark,  that  these  seven  ministers, 
were  not  all  his  own  sons.  They  were  related  to  him  in  three 
ways.  Three  of  them  were  his  own  sons;  two  of  them  married  his 
daughters;  and  two  of  them,  Stephen  Chapin  and  Walter  Chapin, 
married  his  wife's  daughters.  As  lie  advanced  in  years,  in  piety, 
and  in  love  for  his  sons,  the  dreadfuls  of  Hopkinsianism  seemed  to 
evaporate. 

He  died  October  20,  1820,  in  the  seventy-fourth  year  of  his  age. 

My  Mother,  rfma  Emerson.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Dea.  Joseph 
and  Elizabeth  Fletcher;  and  was  born  at  Dunstable,  Ms.  1746; — 
the  same  year  wilii  my  father.  1  have  reason  to  believe,  that  she 
was  naturally  possessed  of  uncommon  delicacy  of  taste,  and  superior 
understanding.  Her  means  of  literary  education,  however,  were 
almost  nothing;  the  whole  time  that  she  ever  attended  school, 
amounting  to  a  very  few  weeks.  Living  in- the  midst  of  woods  and 
rudeness,  her  faculties  could  not  be  much  unfolded.  And  yet  per- 
haps few  female  minds,  in  that  age,  were  more  improved.  Her 
reasonings  were  sometimes   highly  acute,  and   her  conclusions  re- 

*  How  often  do  wo  see  the  some  impression  made  on  the  minds  of  many,  by  the 
young  zeal  <>t'  ;t  new  order  of  nun,  when  first  rising  in  the  christian  community; 
especially  if  such  men  are  essentially  right  in  their  views,  as  well  as  ardent  in 
their  zeal.  Such  has  always  been  tin-  (act,  and  such  we  may  export  it  always 
will  be,  lor  its  foundation  seems  deeply  laid  in  human  nature.  It  i>  delightful  to 
participate  in  the  lofty  hopes  tint  lie  the  breasts  of  such  men  We  revere  their 
devout  heroism,  ami  readily  yield  them  tlin  grateful  tribute  of  our  hearts.  This 
tribute  may  be  just;  but  it  is  certainly  liable  to  become  extravagant. 


JOSEPH    AND    ELIZABETH    FLETCHER.  453 

markably  correct.  How  exceedingly  would  she  have  rejoiced, 
could  she  have  had  the  literary  opportunities  that  most  of  our 
young  females  now  enjoy.  Her  conversation  was  one  of  the 
greatest  advantages  of  my  childhood.  A  more  kind  and  tender 
mother,  no  child  ever  need  to  desire.  O  that  my  conduct  to  her 
had  been  in  any  good  degree  correspondent.  From  my  earliest 
recollection,  she  was  an  invalid  to  an  extreme  degree,  being  scarce- 
ly able  to  superintend  her  domestic  concerns.  Rarely  did  1  ever 
know  her  do  so  much,  in  the  way  of  manual  labor,  as  to  sweep  a 
room.  Though  always  feeble,  she  had  enjoyed  more  health  in  her 
earlier  days,  and  was  very  dexterous  with  the  needle.  We  hope 
she  was  a  sincere  christian,  though  by  no  means  forward  in  chris- 
tian conversation;  and  as  for  christian  enterprise  for  the  world  at 
large,  she  probably  never  heard  of  any  such  thing.  She  could 
name  no  particular  day  nor  year,  in  which  she  supposed  her  heart 
was  renewed,  which  tended  exceedingly  to  cloud  her  prospect  into 
the  future  world.  Her  conscience  was  tender  and  scrupulous  to  a 
degree  that  is  rarely  witnessed.  She  seemed  wonderfully  comfort- 
ed and  delighted,  when  her  two  daughters  were  hopefully  brought 
to  embrace  the  Savior,  in  the  year  17!)3. 

Her  sensibility  and  delicacy  of  feeling,  were  extreme.  Her  sym- 
pathy was  so  acute,  that  she  could  not  bear  to  inflict  or  to  witness 
pain.  She  had  a  passion  for  the  cultivation  of  flowers.  "When  in 
very  feeble  health,  her  nervous  system  was  much  impaired,  and 
trivial  circumstances  would  give  her  trouble  or  fill  her  with  appre- 
hension. Once,  (a  circumstance  perhaps  known  to  but  few  even 
of  our  family.)  she  gave  the  following  indication  of  mental  de- 
rangement. When  she  had  long  been  too  feeble  for  the  least  ex- 
posure, my  father  found  her,  one  morning  about  the  break  of  day, 
walking  in  the  pasture  and  much  wet  with  dew.  She  very  pleas- 
antly observed,  that  she  had  been  taking  a  walk;  and  readily  re- 
turned to  her  room.  Nothing  was  ever  said  to  her  oh  the  subject; 
and  no  evil  ensued  from  the  exposure,  as  is  probably  the  common 
fact  with  persons  under  the  exciting  influence  of  derangement. 

After  she  had  languished  several  years,  she  fell  asleep,  as  we 
trust,  in  Jesus,  November  22,  1795,  aged  4!». 

Joseph  ami  Elizabeth  Fletcher.  These  were  the  parents  of  my 
mother.  They  were  born  in  Westford,  about  the  year  1712.  Her 
parental  name  was  Underwood.  Being  united  in  marriage,  they 
removed  to  Dunstable,  where  they  were  among  the  first  settlers. 
Though  my  personal  acquaintance  with  them,  was  inconsiderable, 
on  account  of  my  youth,  particularly  with  my  grandfather,  who 
died  when  I  was  about  ten  years  old,  I  have  reason  to  believe  they 
were  among  the  best  pillars  of  the  church  and  society  in  that 
place — that  they  were  highly  respected,  beloved,  and  honored,  as 
citizens,  neighbors,  friends,  and  christians.  My  grandfather  was 
deacon  of  that  church;  and  probably  few  men,  in  that  day,  dis- 
charged the  duties  of  that  office  more  faithfully.  He  lived  to  ac- 
quire a  large  property  in  land,  and  reared  a  numerous  and  respect- 
able family,  but  was  able  to  do  scarcely  any  thing  for  their  literary 
education.  All  his  children,  nine  in  number,  were  alive  at  his 
death;  in  1784;  and  1  believe  followed  him  to  the  grave,  eight  of 
them  with  their  companions. 


454  JOSEPH    AND    ELIZABETH    FLETCHER. 

My  grandmother  survived  her  husband  about  eighteen  years,  and 
gave  me  considerable  opportunity  to  become  acquainted  with  her 
intellectual,  social,  and  christian  character.  She  was  one  of  the 
most  interesting  companions  with  whom  I  ever  conversed.  In  the 
days  of  my  childhood,  it  seemed  as  though  I  could  sit  forever  and 
hear  her  tell  stories  about  bears,  deers,  foxes,  Indians,  etc.,  relating 
to  the  early  history  of  Dunstable,  and  to  the  history  of  our  fore- 
fathers. Her  kindness  and  tenderness  towards  me,  were  wonder- 
ful; and  my  affection  was  correspondent.  Scarcely  ever  did  I  eat, 
with  such  a  relish,  apples,  cakes,  etc.,  as  those  which  were  conferred 
upon  my  childhood  by  her  dear,  trembling  hand. 

A  few  years  before  her  death,  she  stated  to  me,  that  though  she 
had  been  exceedingly  desirous  to  dream  of  her  husband,  ever  since 
his  death,  yet  she  never  enjoyed  that  satisfaction  but  once. 
Though  such  facts  are  not  uncommon,  yet  who  can  account  for 
them  upon  the  common  principles  of  the  association  and  suggestion 
of  ideas?  The  final  cause  is  not  so  recondite.  God  seems  to  have 
made  this  arrangement,  in  his  most  mysterious  providence,  to  pre- 
vent delirium.  Should  we  be  intensely  thinking  of  our  dear  de- 
parted friends,  by  night  and  by  day,  year  after  year,  it  must  be 
more  than  we  could  bear,  and  the  balance  of  the  mind  must  be 
lost. 


Other  facts  might  be  adduced  respecting  our  ancestors,  but  per- 
haps too  much  space  has  already  been  occupied  in  this  manner. 
Let  it,  however,  be  remembered,  that  this  account  was  prepared, 
(not  for  the  world  at  large,  much  less  for  the  fastidious  critic,)  but 
to  gratify  the  laudable  curiosity  and  benefit  the  hearts  of  a  numer- 
ous circle  of  family  connections,  and  for  such  other  friends  as  may 
feel  a  special  interest  in  the  early  history  of  this  section  of  our 
country,  and  of  the  churches  so  early  planted  here.  It  was  not 
conceived  in  the  heart  of  my  brother,  on  his  dying  bed,  by  a  spirit 
of  egotism,  nor  dictated  to  gratify  family  pride.  The  hour  was  too 
solemn; — and  in  the  hope  of  doing  good,  his  soul  soon  rose  above 
even  the  fear  of  such  a  charge. 

Possessing  some  means  of  information  which  my  brother  had  not 
at  hand,  1  have  here  and  there  taken  the  liberty  to  add  a  fact  or  to 
modify  a  statement,  without  stopping,  in  each  instance,  to  trouble 
the  reader  with  a  notice  of  my  separate  responsibility  for  such 
statements.  The  notes  also  are  added  by  me.  The  same  liberty, 
however,  I  have  not  taken  with  the  productions  inserted  in  the 
body  of  the  foregoing  work,  where  I  have  endeavored  always  to 
indicate  to  the  reader  those  portions  for  which  I  was  alone  respon- 
sible, however  short. 


